Death by Pumpkin Spice (19 page)

Paul nodded absently and then went off to talk to Margaret. I watched him go before turning, only to find Shannon a few paces away, looking at me.

“I don't hold it against you,” she said.

“Hold what?” I asked, honestly confused.

“This.” She gestured around the room. “That.” She motioned toward Paul.

“Shannon, I . . .”

“It's okay.” She smiled at me and then walked away.

What in the world could that have been about?
I watched her vanish into the crowd, completely at a loss. If she thought there was still something between me and Paul, she was mistaken. Sure, some of the old flame was still there, but not enough that either of us would act on it. I'd moved on.
So you think.

I stood alone in the middle of the ballroom and realized that my part in the investigation was done. The police could handle the rest. Paul had the list. Buchannan had heard what Margaret Yarborough had to say. I had no other leads and didn't think I was going to come across any more. Even the rain sounded as if it had started to let up. We might actually get to leave before the night was out.

My eyes scanned the crowd until I found Will. A smile spread across my face. We were finally going to get to spend some real time together now that I wasn't chasing after a murderer.

With one last glance at Paul, and a slight pang of jealousy that he was still on the case, I headed for Will, hoping I could still salvage something positive from the night.

20

“Someone said we might be able to leave soon. Do you know anything about that, Karen?” Diana twirled her finger in her hair.

“I haven't heard,” I said through gritted teeth. “And it's Krissy.”

Diana gave me a simpering smile.

I was trying to like Darrin's and Carl's wives, I really was, but it was like making friends with a ravenous tiger. Actually, I think I'd be better off with the tiger. At least it would want to eat me. Diana and Kim refused to learn my name, no matter how many times I told them.

“This party is a total bust,” Kim said, smoothing down the front of her extravagant gown. She looked as if she were ready for a high school prom, though I knew the youth was painted on. When you got close to her, the caked-on makeup became evident.

When I'd come over to talk to Will, I hadn't anticipated getting dragged into a conversation with the wives of his friends. Will, Darrin, and Carl had all gone off together, leaving me stuck with women who clearly had nothing in common with me. I caught a couple of grins from the men as they slunk off to hide.

Jerks.

Diana sighed for about the twentieth time since I'd gotten there. “You've been running around with that policeman, right, Carrie? Can't you make him let us go? Everyone knows
we
could have had nothing to do with the killing.”

“Sorry,” I said, not bothering to correct her this time. “Even if the case was solved, we'd be stuck here until the driveway is clear.”

Diana huffed and Kim rolled her eyes. “This is the last time I ever come to one of these,” the latter said.

“Totally,” Diana agreed.

I ground my teeth together and tried not to blow up at them. No wonder Darrin and Carl had beat a hasty retreat the moment I was introduced. If I had to listen to these two women complain all night, I'd go insane. Now I knew what Will had meant when he'd talked about his friend's wives. I guess sometimes looks aren't the only thing that matters in a person; personality goes a long way.

“So, what do you do for a living?” I asked the women, hoping to have some sort of decent conversation where I wouldn't want to throttle them.

Diana looked at me as if I'd just asked her what color her undergarments were. Kim looked confused.

“Never mind,” I muttered, knowing they probably spent their days lounging by the pool, going to parties, and acting as if they were better than everyone else.

“I hear you work at a coffee shop,” Kim said, appalled. “You don't actually touch the food, do you?”

“I own the place,” I said. “And, yes, I touch the food.” I wiggled my fingers as if I personally stuck my thumb in every cup of coffee.

Diana's nose crinkled. “I can't imagine.”

“Can we please go now?” Kim asked. I think she was more concerned about getting away from me than leaving the party.

I tuned them out and scanned the crowd for an escape. There had to be something better to do. The two women didn't want me there, and I surely didn't want to stand around, listening to them complain and put me down. Vicki and Mason were talking with Lance and Jules. That was more my crowd; not these two rich bimbos who cared about nothing other than themselves.

I mentally chided myself for thinking of Diana and Kim so poorly, but it was hard not to. I might have to eventually spend more time with them if Will and I became serious. There would be dinner parties, triple dates. Maybe they aren't so bad. Could I really judge them based on one little conversation?

Glancing over, I decided, yeah, I could. Diana was twirling her hair around her index finger, looking as bored as could be. Kim kept huffing and sighing as if she thought someone would eventually take notice and call in a helicopter to airlift her out of here.

“I'll talk to you two later,” I said. “I see some friends I'd like to say hi to.”

Diana looked surprised when I spoke, as if she'd forgotten I was there. “Oh. Okay. Have fun, Missy.”

She was closer this time. Maybe someday she'd get it.

“Bye.” Kim gave me a finger wave before looking away.

I started for where my friends were chatting when I saw Terry Blandino striding purposefully across the room. I altered my course, thinking that this
had
to be more interesting than anything else going on at the moment. I followed him across the room, until I saw exactly where he was heading.

The man in the fedora, Philip, was glowering at Terry as he approached. He was alone, standing apart from the rest of the guests, almost as if he'd been ostracized, and it looked as if he wanted to keep it that way. The last time I saw him and Terry together, they'd been fighting, and this looked like another outburst in the making.

I worked my way as close as I could get without standing out. I'd been caught eavesdropping once already; I wasn't looking forward to having it happen again. Unfortunately, there weren't many people standing near Philip, which meant I couldn't get within hearing range without him noticing me. I moved to the snack table, which was as close as I could safely get, and pretended to pick over the various cheeses while watching their lips, hoping I could make something out.

Terry didn't give Philip much of a chance to speak. He leaned in close and said a few harsh words I couldn't make out. He leveled his finger at the other man, nearly shoving it up his nose. Philip took the tongue-lashing stoically before removing his horn-rimmed glasses. For a moment, I thought he was going to slip them into his pocket and then punch Terry in the face. Instead, he wiped them clean, seemingly disinterested in whatever Terry had to say, before shoving his glasses back onto his face. He muttered something that sounded like, “So?” before shrugging and walking away. Terry stood there, fuming after him for a long moment, before turning and storming the other way.

I was pretty sure I saw Philip's name as Philip Carlisle on the list Margaret had given me. I didn't recall seeing Terry's, but that didn't mean they hadn't been together. She might have forgotten, or kept it off the list for some reason. Could that mean the friction between the two men was because they were both smitten with Mrs. Yarborough?

I thought back to what Margaret had told me about how Philip thought that since Howard Yarborough was dead, he and Margaret would run off together. Was Terry Blandino somehow connected with the Yarboroughs, more than a simple party guest? If he was in love with Margaret, I could see how Philip's plan would rub him the wrong way.

So, what if Philip was in love with Margaret, had wanted their affair to mean more than it really did, but when she told him she wasn't interested, he decided to kill her? He might have mistaken Jessica Fairweather for her since they were both wearing the same costume, killing the younger girl by accident.

But I found it hard to believe. If he'd slept with Mrs. Yarborough, it would be hard to mix the two up. Jessica had been strangled. In order to do that, the killer had to get up close and personal with the victim. Even if he'd snuck up behind her, he would have realized his mistake as soon as he laid his hands on her. I supposed he could have killed her to keep her quiet, even after realizing his mistake. But if that was the case, why not go after Margaret when I'd caught them alone together?

I needed to know more.

And I thought I knew exactly where to go for the information I needed.

I snatched up a couple of cheese cubes and stuffed them into my mouth before heading for the hall. My stomach grumbled at the limited sustenance and I promised it I'd treat myself to a pot of coffee and an entire cake when this was all over.

There were people in the hallway, so I continued on past them until I found an unoccupied room. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. There was no lock on the door, so I could only hope no one walked in on me. It wasn't that I was doing anything bad, but I didn't want the wrong person to overhear the questions I was about to ask and tattle on me.

Turning, I grimaced at the decorations. Chains hung from the ceiling with dull hooks on the ends of them. On the table in the middle of the room was a recognizable puzzle box. On the wall opposite the door was a movie poster for
Hellraiser.
Next to that was a mannequin of the villain himself, nails sticking out of his head as he glowered at me.

I shuddered and turned my back on the straight-out-ofa-horror-movie tableau. If I'd been married to Howard, I either would have made him take everything down, or would have moved out. There was no way I could live with this stuff in nearly every room.

I pulled my cell phone out of my baggy sweatpants and went to recent calls. I clicked on the first number there and waited as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Rita. It's Krissy.”

“Oh, Krissy!” Rita shouted into the phone. “I'm so glad you called. You
must
tell me everything that is happening. You're involved in this, aren't you? From what I hear, you and Officer Dalton are close to catching the killer. Is it true? Of course it is! You two do such good work together. I don't know how you two aren't dating anymore. You're such a match!”

I waited for her to take a breath before cutting in. “We're working on it,” I said. “But we've run into a few snags.” I wasn't quite sure I was talking about the murder investigation or our relationship.

“Snags?” Rita asked. “That's terrible! Do you remember the James Hancock novel,
Partied until Death
? The whole thing took place at a party just like the one you are at, and the killer was picking everyone off one by one.”

“I remember it,” I said with a sigh. “Only one person has died here.” And the party in the book wasn't a costume party. Really, other than the word
party
there weren't any similarities between the book and what was happening here.

“But maybe the result will be the same!” Rita sounded beside herself with excitement. “Remember how the butler had an affair with the cook and they conspired against the host, killing his friends and family to drive him insane and steal his fortune? Absolute brilliance!”

I rolled my eyes. Dad was never happy with his “the butler did it” solution, but at the time, didn't know what else to do. He felt it was too cliché, and I had to agree. Nothing I'd seen here pointed to the butler, or any of the help, killing Jessica, however.

“This isn't a novel,” I said, feeling it had to be said, but knowing Rita wouldn't care.

“Of course not.” I could almost see her waving a hand at me. “But perhaps you can use it as a guide to solve the case.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Why was it that nearly every time I talked to Rita, she had to bring up one of my dad's books? I knew she was a fan, and I was sure he appreciated her fandom, but come on! This was real life. Things didn't happen nice and orderly like they did in a book. She had to understand that.

“I have a few questions about some of the guests,” I said, changing the subject to the reason for my call. “I don't know anyone here and instead of interrogating them, I thought that you might know a few things about them.”

“Oh!” She sounded excited by the prospect. “Are they all suspects?”

I knew she was hoping I'd tell her the names of all of the people Paul and I suspected of committing the crime, but I knew if I did, it would be all over town in seconds, with my name attached. I had to be careful here. I wanted to get information, not start rumors.

“No,” I said, eyeing Pinhead over my shoulder. “I'm looking for background information, so I know a little more about the guests. I'm hoping it will help me narrow the suspect list down.”

“Oh, well, okay then.” I could hear the disappointment in her voice. “What do you want to know?”

“Terry Blandino,” I said. “What is his relationship with the Yarboroughs?”

“Blandino . . .” There was a clicking sound I assumed came from her tapping the phone with her fingernail. “Blandino . . .”

I waited, suddenly afraid my source of gossip had come up blank. What if she didn't know Terry or Philip, or any of the guests here well enough to know anything juicy about them? These people ran in entirely different circles than Rita. There was no way one person could know everyone in town, even one the size of Pine Hills where everyone
seemed
to know each other.

“Oh, yes, Terry!” she exclaimed, as if suddenly remembering him. “I'm not sure, but I thought either Terry or his ex-wife might have had an affair with one of the Yarboroughs. Or was it their daughter?”

“He has a daughter?”

“Oh yes,” Rita said. “Her name is Ellen.” There was a pause. “No, wait. Elaine. Her name is Elaine.”

I gaped into the phone. “Monroe three is Terry Blandino's daughter?”

“Monroe?” Rita asked, confused. “No, I think she goes by Harmon; her mother's maiden name. The separation wasn't a happy one, but what breakup is?”

My mind was churning as I tried to figure out how Terry having a daughter, one who was at the party tonight, wearing the same dress as the murder victim, could have led to Jessica's death. As far as I was aware, Elaine didn't know anyone other than her father at the party. Could he have killed his own daughter?

It didn't fit. I couldn't imagine anyone hurting their own child, even if they hadn't had contact in a while. And as with anyone mistaking Jessica for Elaine, I seriously doubted her own father would mistake Jessica for her.

I needed to think about it some more before coming to any sort of conclusion, so I moved on and asked about the other person I'd called her about.