Button Holed (30 page)

“Well, that explains the beefed-up security,” Sloan muttered.

I’m not sure Wynona heard. Then again, the kid was on a roll and so upset that her words combined with her tears and fell like rain. “I read about the movie in the newspaper, the one that was going to be filmed here in Chicago, and I came here, and I . . .” Her cheeks were ashen when she looked at me. “I did a terrible thing,” she said.

Estelle clasped a hand to her throat. “Oh! She killed Kate. You heard her! She said she killed Kate.”

“Except that’s not what Wynona is talking about,” I told Estelle before looking back at Wynona. “Right?”

She nodded. “I kept an eye on all of you.” She glanced from Margot to Sloan. “All of you assistants. And I went into the restaurant where that Shawna was having lunch. And my mother—I mean, my adopted mother—she used to use a lot of herbs. You know, natural remedies she learned about back in West Virginia. And I slipped some herbs into Shawna’s lunch. I didn’t want to hurt her, just make her sick. And I did, and then you needed another assistant and there I was, like magic!”

“And Kate never paid the least bit of attention to you.” I knew I was right on the money when I pointed this out because Wynona’s face turned an unattractive shade of red. “Why would she? You were just a lowly assistant. I bet when she finally did, she was shocked to see a younger version of herself looking back at her.”

“I slipped that photograph into the briefcase with those buttons you gave Kate, and still—still, she didn’t see. Still, she didn’t say she knew who I was and she was so happy to see me. Then I finally had a chance to talk to her alone. I came right out and told her who I was and—”

“And after all your effort and all your time and all your trouble, what did you get in return?” I stared Wynona down. “Your mother didn’t want anything to do with you, did she? In fact, she fired you. That’s why you followed her here to the shop that evening.”

“Yes.” Wynona was crying so hard, she could barely speak. “Yes, but what happened after that . . .” She leapt to her feet and looked around the circle. “I told her that if she had acknowledged me as her daughter, maybe I would have had the money to keep my mama—you know, my adopted mama—alive. My daddy and I, we wouldn’t have lost our home and all we had because of mama’s medical bills. And Kate . . .” All the color drained from Wynona’s face. “She laughed at me.”

“And you picked up that buttonhook and—”

“It was an accident,” Wynona screamed. “A terrible accident. She came at me, you see, and she pushed me. And I knocked against the table, and I didn’t know how to defend myself. And I didn’t know what that hook thing was and I just grabbed it, and I hit Kate with it and—” Reliving the scene, she stared down at her empty hands. “I didn’t know what happened until I saw the blood.”

“That’s all I need to hear!” Mike Homolka hopped out of his seat and headed to the door. So did Margot and Sloan. His Royal Highness, it goes without saying, had heard enough. He stood, raised his chin, and marched out. It took Hugh a little longer to collect himself. Shaking, he plodded to the door, stopping only long enough to give Wynona a searching look and ask, “Why?”

That left me and Kaz. Me, Kaz, and Wynona. I signaled him that it was OK for him to leave. “I’ll wait outside,” he said.

Wynona and I were alone.

“Oh, Ms. Giancola!” she wailed. “I’m so sorry. I never meant any of this to happen. I feel so terrible, but I didn’t know what to do. After I realized Kate was dead . . . Well, I messed up your store. A lot. I figured I needed to make it look like someone had been looking for something, like maybe Kate had walked in on a robbery or something. I didn’t know what to do. I had to keep it all a secret. That’s why I tried to get the picture back.” Wynona hung her head. “I’m so sorry I hurt you that day I was on the bike. It’s why I offered that horrible Mike guy money in exchange for taking pictures of you. So I’d know where you were and when you were out of the shop and I could come here and get the photograph. But Mike . . .” She curled her lip and wrinkled her nose. “He laughed at me, too, and when I tried to break in here . . . Well, that didn’t work, either. I’ve made some terrible mistakes, and I’ve really messed things up. What’s going to happen to me?”

I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to talk to the authorities, and you’re going to tell them exactly what you told us all tonight. And they’re going to take it all into consideration, Wynona. About how upset you were, about how Kate came at you first and you had to defend yourself. The important thing now is just to get the truth out in the open. They’re going to understand.”

She raised shining eyes to mine. “You’ll come with me?”

“Yes, of course.” I patted her arm and stepped aside so she could get to the door. “And we’ll go right now. That way, you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. And don’t worry, Kaz and I will be right there with you. We’ll help you explain.”

She had her hand on the doorknob when I added, “Only there’s one thing I can’t help with because I don’t understand it myself.”

Wynona froze and looked at me over her shoulder.

“The gloves,” I said.

Her eyelids fluttered. “Gosh, Ms. Giancola! Gloves? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I smiled. But then, Wynona had already stabbed Kate with a buttonhook. I didn’t want to get on her bad side. “They were one of the pairs of gloves Kate wore in the movie
,
those gorgeous, elbow-length gloves, right? There were so many pairs, nobody would miss one. And gloves . . . That explains why there were no fingerprints the day you broke in here to try and get the photograph back. More importantly, you brought those gloves with you the night Kate died. And you wouldn’t have done that by chance, Wynona. You didn’t want to leave any evidence. Because you planned on killing Kate that night.”

Wynona’s smile was sleek. Her voice wasn’t breathy any longer. It was as hard-edged as that silver buttonhook. “Nobody can possibly understand how much I hated that bitch. She had everything. A glamorous career and that damned prince of hers, and all the money in the world. And she wouldn’t share any of it. She wouldn’t even acknowledge me as her daughter. I showed her, didn’t I? You see, I inherited more than just that stupid button from Kate. I’m as good an actress as she was. Little ol’ me? A cold-blooded killer? Once I turn on the waterworks, everybody’s going to be convinced that what happened here that night was a terrible accident.”

“Except for me, and a jury.” When Nevin walked out of my back room, Wynona’s mouth fell open. She spun around just in time to see him raise the digital tape recorder in his hands. “And once they hear what you just said . . .”

Wynona’s animal scream cut him short. She was on top of me before I even saw her coming, her face red and distorted, her hands around my neck.

“You tricked me, you bitch!” She squeezed and stars exploded behind my eyes. “How could you—”

As quickly as it started, the pressure on my neck eased. But then, like I said, Nevin had great reflexes. He had Wynona facedown on the floor and his handcuffs out even before Kaz came running.

Chapter Nineteen

THE CABANA BOY REALLY WAS WEARING A LOINCLOTH—and as far as I could tell, nothing else.

I gulped down my mortification, mumbled some word of thanks for the tray of buttons he set down on the table in front of me (the one that also had a glass of wine on it), and got to work.

Realistic buttons.

My topic on Estelle Marvin’s show was realistic buttons.

And I swear, I know a whole lot about realistic buttons.

All of which would have been easier to remember if the more-than-half-naked, dark-haired, dark-eyed, incredibly gorgeous hunk wasn’t grinning at me.

To this day, I don’t remember what I said or how I filled up the five-minute time slot Estelle had allowed for the “Button Babe” segment.

I only know that when it was over and we cut for a commercial, I felt as if I’d been wrung out and hung up to dry.

“You did great!” The hunk bent down and gave me a peck on the cheek before he disappeared back toward wardrobe, where he would, no doubt, do the world a disservice by clothing that incredible body.

“You need to get your butt out of there!” This, of course, was from Estelle, who shooed me out of my chair. “We’ve got another segment to do, and you’re not in this one. And by the way,” she added when I pulled myself onto my rubbery knees and made a move to leave the set. “You weren’t half bad. You’ll come back for another appearance, won’t you? Of course you will!” she decided before I could. “Anybody as savvy as you knows a good business move when she sees one, and my show, honey . . .” Estelle barked out a laugh. “This is as good as it gets!”

When the director signaled for silence, I dashed to the sidelines, where Stan was waiting for me.

“Good work, kiddo,” he whispered. He put an arm around my shoulders and led me to a spot where he knew we’d be far enough away from the cameras to talk. “You looked fabulous. You’re good at TV and at solving murders, too. You’re a real pro!”

“The only thing I want to be a pro at is buttons.” Our hot Chicago weather had breezed out on the tail of a cold front and it was a gray, chilly afternoon. I grabbed my raincoat and headed for the door. “From now on, that’s all I’m going to worry about. Buttons, buttons, and more buttons.”

“I don’t know about that.” Nevin stepped out from behind a piece of scenery. It was a good thing I didn’t know he’d come to the show because I would have been more nervous than ever. “Stan’s right,” he said. “You’re pretty good at this TV thing, and Stan . . .” Nevin was carrying a Starbucks bag, and he shifted it from one hand to the other. “I want to thank you for all your help, sir. It was good of you to share your experience.” They shook hands. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Whether that was true or not was anybody’s guess, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. Stan’s shoulders shot back, and rather than let things get maudlin, Nevin got down to business. He opened the bag and handed around cups of coffee.

I breathed in the fabulous aroma rising from my cup. “Caffè Misto. How did you know?”

Nevin smiled. “Hey, I am a detective!”

“And I’m a third wheel.” Stan went ahead of us to the door, and Nevin and I left the studio, too. We were already out in the hallway when Kaz zipped around the corner.

“Hey!” One look at Nevin, and Kaz stopped short. “I wanted to see you do the show. Is it over? Dang! I would have been here sooner, but I had to stop at home for a couple things.”

It wasn’t until I looked him over that I noticed he was carrying his backpack. “You’re going away?”

Kaz’s smile was swift and sweet. “For a little while.”

It was a week after I’d gathered my suspects together at the Button Box, a week since Wynona’s arrest, and now that the case was wrapped up and my appearance on Estelle’s show was over, I was free to get back to my normal life. I’d been walking on a cloud. Until that very moment. The familiar twinge of disappointment soured my mood. “You didn’t use that money I gave you for what I thought you were going to use it for, did you?” I asked Kaz.

He made a face. “I had this sure thing going, and I just knew, this time, it was going to work. But hey . . .” He checked his watch and headed back the way he’d come. “No worries! There’s always next time. I’ve got a cab waiting. If anybody happens to call and ask about me, you’ll do me a favor, won’t you, Jo?”

“And tell them I don’t know who they’re talking about? You bet!”

Outside, Nevin and I were just in time to see Kaz hop into a cab.

Nevin shook his head. “Trouble, huh?”

I sighed. Right before a smile relieved my somber expression. “Something tells me you didn’t have to be a detective to figure that out. Kaz always has been trouble. He always will be. And me . . .” I toasted Nevin with my coffee, and since I’d waited long enough, I popped the lid and took a sip. “I’m never going to let myself forget it.”

“Good.” He moved his paper cup from one hand to the other. “So maybe we could . . . I dunno . . . I was thinking . . . dinner?”

What was that Estelle had said? I was smart enough to know a good move when I saw one?

Maybe when the subject was business. When it came to Nevin . . .

I looked him over and decided that like appearing on TV—and solving murders—there was only one way to find out.

“Dinner,” I said. “But no pizza.”

“Agreed.”

“And I promise not to talk about buttons,” I told him. “If you promise not to talk about murder.”

“Oh, I don’t know!” Nevin put a hand on my shoulder to usher me down the street. “When it comes to murder . . . Josie, I think we finally found something we have in common.”

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BUTTONS 101

Whether you’re looking through Grandma’s button box or attending your first-ever button show, you’ll find there’s a world of information to learn about buttons. There are dozens of different materials used to manufacture buttons, from metal to porcelain to rubber, and collectors who specialize in each style and design. If you’d like more information about the history of buttons, collecting, and button clubs all over the world, check out the National Button Society at
www.nationalbuttonsociety.org
.