A Masquerade of Muertos (Wisteria Tearoom Mysteries Book 5) (31 page)

“Of course,” I said.

“Thanks. Half an hour OK?”

“I’ll be here.”

I put down the phone. Not wanting to sit alone and stare at the murder weapon, I got up and went out to join Tony, who was just stashing his phone. “That was the lab,” he said. “Nothing in the vodka besides food coloring and that glitter.”

I was glad to be right on that point. The thought of Gabriel using his magnetism to get people to poison themselves made me shiver, the more so because I believed he could have done it, if he’d wanted to.

“Who called you?” Tony asked.

“Dale. He’s coming to get the absinthe fountain.”

“The what?”

“That big water-cooler thing in the dining parlor.”

“Oh. Dale’s the one that put the skulls around, right? Did you ever figure that out?”

“No.”

Tony frowned. “Can we go look at them again?”

“Sure.”

He stepped past me into my office, stuffed the evidence bags with the badge and the tulle into his jacket pockets, then led the way downstairs. Following Gabriel’s map, he began walking through the chambers in order, starting with the blue chamber. He picked up the sugar skull, turned it over, then shrugged and put it back.

We both went into the purple chamber, Violet. Tony paused to gaze at Vi’s portrait.

“You’re right, it needs better light.”

The candles on the mantel had burned out overnight, and I felt an urge to light at least one new one. Later, I told myself, and turned to the lamp stand with a sugar skull decorated in purple on it. “This is the one Dale put here.”

Tony looked at it, then back at the skulls on the mantel. “Who did these?”

I pointed them out. “Me, Julio, Kris, Gabriel, Dee.”

“Did Gabriel know Vi?”

“I don’t think so. Kris probably told him about her.”

“And these were up here before the party started?”

“A week before. We made them at Julio’s decorating party.”

Tony leaned his hands against the mantel, tapping one thumb on the wood. “Anyone at that party who
didn’t
make a skull for Vi?”

“Sure. Your sister, for one.”

Tony shot me a glance. “Who else?”

“Andre, Julio’s roommate. And by the way, I don’t think Vi has anything to do with this.”

“Humor me.”

“Dale. Margo. Cherie.” I paused, thinking. “Mick, but he didn’t decorate any skulls.”

“Not Roberto? Or Gwyneth?”

“They weren’t there. I don’t think Julio knew them. It was his party.”

“But Dale and Cherie and Margo were all there. Does Julio know them?”

“N-no. I guess Gabriel invited them.”

“But he didn’t ask Roberto and Gwyneth.”

“No. Do you blame him? He and Roberto were rivals, remember?”

“And Gwyneth was his ex.”

“Y-yes,” I said slowly.

Tony turned his head to look at me. “What?”

I swallowed. “Kris told me that Gabriel had...slept with the others at the planning meeting. I think she meant just the women.”

Tony’s eyes went wide.
“All
of them?”

“That’s what she said.”

He paced around the room, which only took a few steps. “So not just Gwyneth, but Margo and Cherie...in what order?”

“I don’t know.”

He took out a pen and his wad of notes. “Thanks.”

After making a note, he consulted the map and went through the passage at the back into the green chamber. I stood still, staring at the purple brocade draperies, feeling like a betrayer of womankind. How awful to think that Gabriel might have been killed by a jealous lover—so cliché! Worse, the most likely candidate in that case was Kris.

No tulle,
my heart shouted. But that wasn’t conclusive. The tulle could have come from anywhere; it could be completely unrelated.

Maybe it was!

I hurried through the green chamber and caught up with Tony in the hall. “Tony, where was that scrap of tulle found?”

He paused and gave me an appraising look. “You remember where Gabriel ended up?”

I swallowed and nodded. “The flower basket.”

“The scrap was between the strap of the badge and the basket hook.”

“Oh.”

Not unrelated, then. That scrap of tulle would convict its owner, if she could be found.

Not necessarily “she,” I told myself. But tulle was mostly used for women’s costumes. Ballet tutus, wedding veils...

I tried to imagine how a tutu could get caught between the badge lanyard and the flower hook, and failed completely.

“Why Hidalgo Plaza?” I mused.

“I’ve been wondering that, too,” Tony said, following the map into the orange chamber and pausing to look at the sugar skull there. “The badge tells me the killer knew Gabriel, and he left the party in a hurry. That makes it probable that the killer was someone at the party. But if so, why go a quarter-mile away? Why not hang him in the yard here—”

“Bite your tongue!” I said, outraged.

“—where the intended audience would see him?”

“Maybe the killer didn’t want him to be seen.”

“In that case, there are much better places than Hidalgo Plaza.”

That was true.

“Or maybe it was an accident,” I offered.

“Possible, but not our top theory. He was—do you want to hear this?”

I hesitated, then nodded.

“We found damage to the railing on the second story, above the basket hook. He was pushed.”

And that gave me the picture of how it happened. He chased the killer, they ran into the plaza and up the stairs. Argument, push.

“But how did the lanyard get around his neck?” I asked.

“And why?” Tony said.

“Around his neck...” I frowned. Something was tickling at my memory. Something about the sugar skull party.

Gabriel by the lilac bushes, putting something into Cherie’s hands. Kris pretending not to notice as she decorated a skull. Gabriel returning to the table, his collar framing his neckline.

And no ankh. No ankh, when he’d been wearing it before!

Quickly I told Tony what I had remembered. “He must have given the ankh to Cherie!”

“In front of his current girlfriend?” Tony said skeptically.

“Maybe it was a gift from Cherie, and he was returning it. She wasn’t happy about it, I remember that!”

“What happened next?”

I shrugged. “People decorated skulls. I...don’t think I saw Cherie again. She might have slipped away.”

“You don’t have any of the skulls she decorated, do you?”

“No, but I took pictures of all the skulls.”

He looked up from the map, gaze intent. “Show me!”

We went upstairs, and I brought up the skull pictures. There were a lot of them. Tony blinked at the screen full of thumbnails. It was a wild medley of color. Seeing them all at once reminded me how creative everyone had been.

“Oh, man,” Tony said, sounding tired. “Do you know who did which skulls?”

“Some of them. Not all.”

“Show me the ones Cherie made.”

“I’m not sure about them. I can eliminate a lot of the others.”

“Do that.”

I copied the folder, then deleted all the photos of skulls decorated by me, Angela, Kris, Gabriel, Julio, and Andre. That left about thirty skulls.

“Dee did that one. Rosa did those,” I said, deleting them. “Dale did these two. I’m not sure about the rest.”

Tony enlarged the remaining thumbnails and looked through them. “That one,” he said, pointing to an Egyptian looking one. “Who made that?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Look at the forehead.”

I zoomed the photo and gasped. The skull had an upside-down ankh on the forehead.

“Oh, my....”

“Bet it was Cherie,” Tony said. “Who would know for sure?”

“Um. Rosa and Dee were at the table with her. They might remember.”

Tony made another note. “Want to save me the trouble of looking up their numbers? And could you text me that photo, please?”

I did as he asked, and browsed through the remaining skull photos. There was another Egyptian one, but it didn’t have an ankh. I enlarged it anyway, and Tony leaned closer to the screen to look.

I became conscious of his smell, of leather and weariness and his own distinctive Tony-ness. Instinct made me turn my head to catch a better whiff. He met my gaze.

“You smell good,” I said.

His mouth dropped open, then he pushed his phone and notes onto my desk and reached for me.

Blood fired through my tired veins with sudden thunder. I returned his hungry kiss with equal enthusiasm. I was tired of skulls, puzzles, and sadness.

In the distance, the front doorbell ring downstairs rang. Tony raised his head, muttering a curse.

“You expecting someone?”

“It’s probably Dale, coming to get that fountain.” I shifted in his arms, regretting necessity. “Um. Will you excuse me?”

Tony kissed me again hotly, then gently, then let me go. I stood, straightened my clothing, took a deep breath, and went downstairs. At the front door I pushed aside the black fabric that still covered the lights

Not Dale, but Margo stood outside, looking pale in a black sweater and jeans. But then, Goths liked to look pale.

I opened the door. “Hi, Margo.”

“Hi,” she said in a near-whisper. “Sorry to bother you.” She took a breath. “I left my cloak.”

I stepped back. “Come on in.”

She hesitated a split second, as if returning to the scene of the party brought bad memories, then headed for a row of hooks near the back of the house, several of which held cloaks or coats. Reaching for one, she hesitated, then took down its neighbor and folded it over her arm. They were both black; everything on the hooks was black.

Margo stood staring at the cloak in her arms, one hand stroking the velvet. I noticed it had a pretty silver clasp, a triangular Celtic knot.

Tony came down the stairs. “Margo! Got a minute?”

She jumped slightly and looked up at him. “You scared me!”

“Sorry. I have a couple more questions if you don’t mind.”

Taking pity on her, I gestured to the chairs that still lined the hall. “Have a seat. Would you like some tea?”

Margo shook her head, hugging her cloak as she sank into a wing chair. “It’s just so awful,” she whispered, brushing aside a tear.

Tony pulled another chair out from the wall and set it at right angles to Margo’s. I hovered, unsure whether I should stay.

“First of all, do you remember who made this?” He turned his phone toward her, displaying my photo of the skull with the ankh on it.

Margo stared at it for a few seconds. “I’m not sure. Sorry. Maybe Cherie.”

“OK.” Tony put away his phone and took out his wad of notes. “Are you sure you didn’t see Gabriel leave the house last night?”

She nodded, staring blankly.

“Where were you when Gwyneth fainted?”

“In the hall.”

“What did you do?”

“I...nothing. I just watched. Roberto was helping her.”

“How well did you know Gabriel?”

Margo’s head jerked up as she met Tony’s gaze. “I’ve known him for a couple of years.”

“Did you date him?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and a tear slid down her cheek.

“How recently?”

I frowned, trying to catch Tony’s eye. This seemed cruel.

“Midsummer,” she said. “We got together then. Right after he broke up with Gwyneth.”

“Why’d they break up?”

Her face darkened into a scowl. “She’s such an airhead.” She shot a glance at me. “Sorry. But it’s true. Gabriel’s so much smarter than her. She drove him crazy.”

“When did you stop dating him?”

She winced a little. “About a month ago.”

“When he hooked up with Kris.”

Margo nodded.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Nothing happened.”

“He just changed partners? Or were you still seeing him?”

She looked at Tony, then shook her head again. “No.”

“What about Cherie?”

A shrug. “Cherie was before Gwyneth.”

“Did she and Gabriel part on friendly terms?”

Margo laughed softly. “No. They had a spectacular fight.”

Tony glanced at me, then made a note. “Anyone else see it?”

“Everyone. It was at Beltane. Gabriel was flirting with Gwyneth and Cherie blew up at him.”

That surprised me. Cherie had always struck me as calm and collected, though she did have a sharp tongue.

“She’d had a bit too much,” Margo added, with evident satisfaction.

“Too much what?” Tony asked.

She leveled a flat gaze at him. “Booze. She’s not into drugs.”

“OK, thanks,” Tony said, making another note. “That’s all.”

Margo sat still for a moment, then slowly rose, smoothing the cloak over her arm. She met my gaze and turned toward the front door. I followed and closed it behind her. The glimpse of sunlight dazzled me; I looked at the black drapes, but they were on a rod that was secured above the door. I’d need a step ladder. Or better yet, Mick.

Time to call in the reserves. My phone was upstairs, so I stepped into the gift shop to use the house phone. Mick’s voicemail answered, and I left a message asking him to come in as soon as he was available.

“What’s Beltane?” Tony asked as I came back out.

“It’s a pagan holiday,” I said, remembering Kris telling me about it. “May Day.”

“So Gabriel was with Cherie before May, then with Gwyneth until Midsummer—I assume that’s June or July.”

“June. The solstice.”

“Then with Margo, then with Kris. Whew.”

“He was very charismatic.”

“Sorry I didn’t get to see him in action.”

I grimaced at this tactless remark. The suggestion arose in my mind that Gabriel could have given Tony a few pointers, but I dismissed it as unworthy.

“I need to put some laundry in the dryer,” I said, and headed for the pantry.

Tony started upstairs, but the back doorbell rang and his footsteps stopped, then came down again.

I opened the door and found Dale and Cherie outside. In an olive green sweater and jeans, Dale looked more like a preppie than a Goth. He also looked a bit embarrassed. Cherie was draped in black: a black broomstick skirt under a top with long, dripping sleeves and a plunging neckline that showed off a familiar silver ankh. No makeup, just an expression of wounded woe.