Mantrap (The Boston Uncommons Mystery Series) (24 page)

“This is lovely,” she said, running her fingers over the carved newel post. “You really know your clients, Laird. How far is this from the ocean?”

He pointed south. “Just two blocks, and the center of town is half a mile west.”

She turned those hypnotic hazel eyes his way and sighed. “Perfect. Bolin will want to see this. Shall we move on to the others?”

Although we toured three other possibilities, none affected me like the Cape. I happily devised a mental floor plan, arranging furniture, choosing paint colors, and forgetting for a moment that our pilgrimage was only a charade. That’s the problem with pipe dreams—they seem so real.

AS WE RODE back to Brokind, I brooded about my shortcomings as a detective and a negotiator. Paloma Peters would be wary about everything. The task required stealth, subtlety, and the deft touch that were hallmarks of Anika Swann, not me. I was better suited to the direct approach. Tactics were tricky, but our strategy was simple—appeal to Paloma’s one area of expertise, and her tongue might loosen. Based on the amount of spackle and paint the woman used I guessed that makeup was one of her passions.

Sometimes I get lucky; often I am fortune’s fool. That afternoon Persus stayed upstairs napping, but Paloma joined Anika and me around the tea trolley. It seemed like an omen, a propitious time to grill Mrs. Dario about her actions. To stave off starvation and steady my nerves, I feasted on smoked salmon, fruit, and a butter cookie. Anika was more abstemious. She nibbled a wedge of cheese and a cucumber sandwich. Paloma chose yoghurt with Melba toast.

“You eat a lot,” Paloma said rudely. “Men don’t like that.”

Hardly a promising start for a gabfest. My fingers ached to throttle the bitch, and for once I was speechless. That’s when a partner comes in handy. Anika galloped to the rescue and saved everything.

“She’s just nervous about her wedding. You must recall how that was, Paloma.”

A ghost of a smile edged up Paloma’s face. Beneath her tough exterior, a hint of vulnerability peeked out. My urge to pummel her subsided.

After we exchanged smiles, I plunged in and played my part. “You know a lot about makeup, Paloma. Maybe you can share your secrets.”

Oops! My verbal blunder almost gave the game away. Fortunately, Paloma’s mastery of word games was limited. She missed the hidden subtext in my words.

“I might be able to help,” she said, giving me the once over. “You don’t do much with yourself.”

I bit my tongue, literally, to forestall the comments poised on its tip.

“Eja prefers the natural look,” Anika said. “But we wanted a touch of glamour for the wedding. Everyone will be there, you see.”

“Your nails need work,” Paloma said, eyeing my unvarnished digits. “Toes too, I bet.” She held up her obscenely long nails. “I like tips. Designed the look myself.”

“That might be more than I could handle,” I said. “Maybe I could coordinate my lips and nails. You know, like in the magazines.”

Paloma jumped up and headed for the door. “I’ll get my makeup kit.”

She returned in a flash, carrying a medium-sized suitcase filled with a dizzying array of potions and products.

“Start with lipstick,” I said. “I’ve always avoided bright colors.”

Anika segued into a discussion of brands and shades. “I prefer Clé de Peau, but I think you’re a Chanel girl, Paloma.”

She nodded proudly. “Dario liked that. He got me their purses too.”

“What shade are you wearing?” I asked. “It might suit me.”

Paloma’s expression verged on a sneer. “This is Vamp. Not many women can wear it.” She pulled a tube from her suitcase and opened it. “It’s the only one I wear. Dario called it my . . . my signature.”

I gave her the big-eyed look. “I bet you’re the only woman in town who wears that.”

A frown clouded her brow. “Meeka Kyle tried it once or twice. Copying me.” She tossed her head. “But she didn’t stay with it. I’m the only one.”

“It makes quite a statement,” Anika said. “Such a vivid color.”

“Can’t imagine what it does to cigarettes,” I said with all the sweetness I could muster. “I rarely smoke, but Deming gets the urge every once in a while. He just loves French cigarettes. Ugh! Such vile things.”

Paloma laughed. “Dario finally quit. Kept ragging me about second hand smoke. I had to sneak a smoke whenever I could. I always said my brand was OP, you know, other people’s.”

Both of us managed a weak laugh, but Anika recovered first. Timing was important now. “Someone else said the same thing to us just today. Who was it, Eja? I can’t recall.”

I kept my eyes glued to Paloma’s face. “I know—Cheech Saenz. We stopped by his bike shop.”

Paloma shuddered the moment his name was mentioned, but she brazened it out.

“Cheech, he’s my friend.”

Anika patted her hand. “Trust me, my dear, it’s more than that. The man adores you. Anyone can see that.”

“We never did nothing,” Paloma shrieked. “Just talked. You’re like all the rest. Think you’re better than me. Cheech understands how things are.”

“Cheech knew that Dario hurt you, didn’t he? He said as much.” I edged back in my chair, but it was unnecessary. All the fight went out of Paloma, and a low wail started in her throat. Predictably, a monsoon followed as she sobbed inconsolably.

“He loved me. Dario loved me. We were going away together. To France.”

“Of course you were,” Anika said, her voice in soothing mode. “I’m sure he needed your help. So disappointing about his project.”

“Dario couldn’t do it alone, and his grandma, Mrs. Cantor, she wouldn’t help him. He couldn’t close his deal.”

“I know, dear,” Anika said, “but he shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

The sobs subsided, and Paloma glared at both of us. “No big deal. I grew up that way. Sometimes men need to blow off steam. If it helped Dario, I was okay with it.”

“Cheech didn’t feel that way,” I said.

Paloma lowered her head, shaking it like a stubborn child. “Dario loved me. Nothing else mattered.”

I gulped and plunged into the abyss. “Even getting another woman pregnant?”

Silence, more deafening than a roar, filled the room.

“That slut! It’s that Meeka Kyle, isn’t it?” Paloma leapt up, rage causing her body to shake. She flung herself down on the loveseat, rocking back and forth, trembling.

“Pregnant! Whatever are you saying, Eja?” Persus Cantor stood ramrod straight, clutching the doorframe for support. Her eyes had a feverish glow that consumed everything in its path. Even her neat shirtwaist faded in the heat of that blast.

Anika reached her aunt as she slumped against the wall. “Help me get her to the couch,” she said, motioning to me. Paloma seemed oblivious, locked in a fugue state that had no key.

“Oh, God, what have I done. Should I phone her doctor?” Once again, I cursed my big mouth. “I should have kept quiet. I’m so sorry, Anika.”

She shook her head. “She had to find out sooner or later. I told Bolin that.” Anika pointed to the crystal decanter. “Pour her some Perrier, Eja. That should do the trick.”

I held a tumbler to Pert’s lips as Anika moistened a napkin and dabbed her aunt’s wrists. Her eyes fluttered, then opened. She might be pushing eighty, but Persus Cantor was still a trouper. She half rose and blinked warily at us.

“Oh, my. This is so embarrassing. Please forgive me. I never faint, do I, Anika?” Persus reached for her hankie and cried softly. “Did I hear what I think I did? Tell me if it’s true.”

“Hold on a minute, Aunty.” Anika gestured toward the empty loveseat. “Go find Paloma,” she said. “I’m afraid she should hear this too.”

I rushed from the room straight into Krister. “Does Mrs. Cantor have any pills?” I asked. “I’m afraid she collapsed.”

“I’ll get the smelling salts,” he said. He was calm, cooler than a glacier’s tip.

I ran up the staircase, continuing my search for Paloma. As I breezed past the hallway, Krister’s voice stopped me. “If you’re looking for Mrs. Peters, she’s gone.”

“Gone? How can that be?”

He was too well trained to speculate. “I heard her sports car leave.”

Paloma drove a sleek red Viper that was pretty hard to miss. That dream car fit her perfectly—fast and sexy. Deming scoffed when I drooled over it and called the weathered hatchback I sometimes borrowed a perfect match for my driving skills. As usual, he was right.

By the time I returned, Persus was sitting upright, seemingly recovered from her ordeal.

“Couldn’t find her,” I told Anika. “Apparently she drove away. Maybe we should warn Meeka that Paloma’s on the warpath.”

“Don’t worry about Meeka,” Pert said calmly. “She’s in Boston today. It is Meeka, isn’t it? Perhaps she should plan to stay in Boston at your place, Anika. Let things cool down.”

Anika hugged her aunt. “I’ll contact Bolin. He’ll handle everything.”

After Anika left there was an awkward silence, at least on my part. In my zeal to crack the case, I’d trampled the lives of others and broken my promise to Meeka. I ruthlessly catalogued my sins without sparing myself one bit. If I were writing this scene, the errant detective would be fired immediately.

“Don’t blame yourself, Eja,” Persus said as she sipped Perrier. “It was a shock, true, but a blessing as well. A child, new life in my family. If only you knew how much that means to an old woman. Paloma does her best, but sharing Dario’s son with Meeka—that’s a dream come true.”

For once I kept silent, worried that I might say too much.

“Anika told me it’s a boy. Such a gift! Meeka has always been like my own granddaughter. Now I’ll still have a part of Dario left to love.” Pert’s smile was beatific as she erased all thoughts of Paloma. For once I almost pitied that hapless girl from across the tracks who had never fit in Dario’s world.

Chapter Twenty

I SKIPPED DINNER that evening. The day’s drama had drained my appetite for food and conversation. When Deming phoned, I hemmed and hawed until he lost patience.

“Stop, Eja! Tell me what happened, or I’ll call Mother.”

I played penitent while Deming the confessor shrived me of my sins. He loved that role, especially the kinky part of assigning punishments.

“The minute I leave, disaster strikes. What in hell were you thinking? No wonder Meeka showed up here.”

His question was a good one. Even I wasn’t sure what I’d hoped to gain. When in doubt, change the subject. It always works for me, especially with Deming.

“Your mother and I had an interesting time with Laird today. He’s teetering on the verge of financial meltdown, and his hostility to Dario lives on. That spells motive to me.”

The diversion worked. Deming immediately dove into the suspect pool. “Why kill Dario though? Wouldn’t help his project.”

“Revenge, my sweet. Remember your Hamlet. The croaking raven bellowing revenge.”

Literary allusions seldom impress Deming. He has a practical streak a mile wide.

“So now my aunt’s suitor is a croaking raven, huh? At one time you called him suave.”

“At one time I thought Dario was a decent guy too. I’m just saying that plenty of people around here had motive. In fact, when we confronted Paloma, she didn’t deny anything. Just said she loved Dario.”

Silence makes me uncomfortable, as if the axe will fall any minute. I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to babble.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” Deming’s words had all the charm of a funeral dirge. “You promised to stay out of danger, but you can’t or won’t stop. This is a murderer we’re discussing, not some silly villain in your books.”

“Silly! Now just one minute, Deming Swann. My novels are known for fully formed characters especially villains.”

“It’s not a debate, Eja. I’m talking about our life together. I’m just not sure that I can take it anymore. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

I didn’t panic. I felt preternaturally calm. “You’re probably right, but one last thing before you go. Check out Laird Foster’s financials while you’re at it.”

He hung up without saying another word.

I SPENT A RESTLESS night tossing and turning, dreaming all sorts of ghastly things. By the time I groomed myself and appeared at the breakfast table, Persus and Anika were immersed in party plans. Paloma was nowhere to be seen.

“Eja, you look tired, dear.” Persus had recovered her sprightly manner of old. “Have some espresso.”

After downing two cups of the precious brew, I was finally able to speak. “Anyone seen Paloma?”

“She’s still asleep,” Anika said. “Late night. Krister said she stayed out until dawn.”

Persus shook her head. “Poor child. The news hit her hard. Her marriage wasn’t ideal, but she truly loved Dario. Quite a shock to find out about the baby.”

If I were a betting woman, I’d wager that Paloma had found solace in the tattooed arms of one Cheech Saenz. There weren’t many other candidates in Bayview unless one dabbled in senior citizens. Another doubt nagged at me. Perhaps Paloma wasn’t as devastated as she pretended to be. Perhaps she already knew about the pregnancy.

Anika passed a printout to me. “Check this out, Eja. Our guest list for Saturday night. Isn’t it spectacular? We’ve invited around fifty people from all over the east coast.”

I scanned the list, noting that at least two of the females were Deming’s former flames. Terrific. While I was solving crimes, he could interview my replacement.

“Something wrong?” Anika asked. “Oh, I get it. Don’t worry about Dem’s old girlfriends. They’re both engaged now.”

I summoned my sunniest smile. “Not a problem. After all, he’s still a free man.” My voice broke a little when I said that, causing Anika to squeeze my hand.