Flowerbed of State (35 page)

“Personally, I suspect he got carried away at the minibar.” He sighed before adding, “
Again
.”

“At least you get the chance to drive this beauty. Is it a rental?” The car shimmered so brightly it had to be off the showroom floor new.

“Why rent when you can buy?” He ran his hand along the roof’s sporty line. “I had a local dealer deliver this, their latest model, to the hotel. Shall we go?”

“Yes, of course.” I slid into the Maserati’s luxurious leather seat, an updated version of Cinderella’s carriage, to rush me off to the ball.

And to my date with a killer.

C
ASEY,
if you go running off like a headless chicken, that’s how you’re likely to end up
, Grandmother Faye used to warn me when I was in high school. I rarely listened to her back then and more often than not landed in heaps of trouble because of it.

You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now and come up with a solid plan for the evening.

I hadn’t.

It wasn’t for a lack of effort, mind you. I would have thought a lifetime of reading mystery novels would have prepared me for this, but life wasn’t anything like a mystery novel. There was no guarantee that justice would be served at the end of this tale.

I pondered this as Richard and I waited at a security checkpoint. Because the President and First Lady planned to attend the event, it took nearly fifteen minutes standing in line in front of La Pasta Ria, the restaurant in Dupont Circle hosting the Wildlife Diversity Preservation League charity dinner, to pass through security and get inside.

As soon as we entered the quaint Italian restaurant’s banquet room with frescoed walls covered with murals depicting southern Italy, candles flickering on the tables, and tiny white lights that shimmered like stars hanging from the ceiling, all thoughts about my quest to find proof of Brooks’s guilt faded away.

I fought an urge to pinch myself. Standing next to Richard, who looked as if he belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine, and with me dressed in such a beautiful gown, I felt like a princess who’d just found her glass slipper. Heads turned to watch us, while gentle strains of chamber music provided by a string quartet seemed to float through the air all around me.

The wildlife event had brought out many of Washington’s power players. I spotted Alyssa’s boss, Senator Finnegan, having a conversation with Senator Pendergast. Other congressmen were mingling with lobbyists from various nonprofit organizations. Every now and then I’d recognize a celebrity from the Discovery Channel.

The only group noticeably absent were members of the press.

Richard was clearly in his element. Keeping me at his side, he worked the room, shaking hands with everyone he encountered. I was surprised at how many people he knew. It wasn’t as if D.C. was his hometown.

A hush descended over the crowd, signaling the President and First Lady’s entrance. The President matched all the other men in the room, who were similarly dressed in tuxedo and black tie, but he seemed to stand taller, prouder. Margaret Bradley was dressed in a silver gown that accentuated her graceful figure. They greeted the event organizers, who’d been waiting near the entrance. One of the organizers, a gray-haired man wearing a tuxedo that was too tight in the arms and too long in the legs, broke away and hurried up to a podium that had been set up on the far side of the round room and started to explain what the Wildlife Diversity Preservation League had accomplished over the course of the past year.

I followed as Richard moved away from the podium and struck up a conversation with Senator Finnegan. While the two men talked, I searched the crowd for familiar faces.

Near the entrance, I spotted Agent Cooper dressed in his familiar tweed suit. He must have arrived after the First Family. He seemed to be people-watching as well. His gaze never stopped as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

Lillian and Brooks Keller were standing in a crowd near the buffet tables. I almost didn’t recognize Lillian at first. She was dressed in a tuxedo that matched her brother’s, and she’d pulled her arctic blond hair back into a tight bun. She stiffened when she noticed Cooper by the door. Glancing nervously around, she grabbed her brother’s arm, skirted around a buffet table draped in a white tablecloth, and disappeared through curtained French doors that led outside to a walled-off patio.

Richard and Senator Finnegan’s discussion turned to the technical aspect of hedges—and not the kind of hedges that got pruned. My attention kept going back to the French doors through which Lillian and Brooks had disappeared.

There were two more sets of doors that led out to the same patio. I edged toward the one closest to me and slipped through.

The night sky looked dark against the glow of the city. A jet engine roared in the distance as a plane approached nearby Reagan National Airport.

Because of a vine-covered wooden pergola in the middle of the patio, I couldn’t see either Brooks or Lillian. I nodded to a Secret Service agent standing guard and then moved quietly in the direction of the door the twins had gone through.

“I don’t know why I shouldn’t talk with them,” I heard Brooks say. I peered around the corner of the pergola and found Brooks and Lillian standing toe-to-toe a few feet away from me. “All the major news agencies are running pictures of Pauline and me together. Where did they get them?”

“Joanna, most likely.”

“No, not Joanna. She wouldn’t do that to me. She’s too . . . too . . .”

“She’s a thief and a liar. She’d do anything to hurt you and me.”

“That FBI agent, what’s his name . . .”

“Cooper,” Lillian supplied.

“Yeah, him. He grabbed my arm on the way out of the hotel tonight. He said they’re gathering evidence against me and that they’re getting close to making an arrest. An arrest, Lillian! What evidence could they possibly have? He suggested that if I had nothing to hide, he’d appreciate it if I came in and answered some questions.”

“God, tell me you didn’t say anything to him.”

“I’m not a moron, but he got me to thinking. If I went down there and explained—”

“Nothing would change. Nothing. Don’t you see what’s happening? They’re looking for someone to blame, a convenient scapegoat. A murdered lover makes for a good story.”

“But perhaps if they understood—”

“They’d arrest you, and the court of public opinion would convict you.” Lillian huffed loudly. “Keep your mouth shut and let the FBI look elsewhere. Pauline dug deep into National Tenure’s accounts, deep enough that I’m sure she found a skeleton or two. No one benefitted more from her death and the loss of her precious laptop than Richard. If you had managed to stay out of her bed, I bet the FBI would be all over that angle right now instead of bothering with you.”

“You don’t think he killed her, do you?” Brooks sounded appalled by the idea.

“I don’t care what he’s done. As long as it takes the focus off you, I’m willing to drop a few hints here and there.”

“Now, Lillian.” It was Brooks’s turn to sound wary. “You’re about as subtle as a bulldozer in a china shop.”

“You mean a bull.”

“What?” Brooks shook his head in confusion. “No, not a bull. I mean you, Lillian. You’re too aggressive when it comes to—”

“I protect what’s important to me.”

“But Joanna—” Brooks protested.

“Had her fingers where they didn’t belong.” Lillian shivered. “Let’s get back inside and try to act as if nothing has happened, because it hasn’t.”

My heart banged in my chest. Could I let them return inside without saying anything? The banking summit was over and the CEOs would be heading back to New York. I might never get another chance to question either Brooks or Lillian again.

“Excuse me,” I called, and hurried over to them.

Lillian turned around to glare while Brooks got a goofy grin on his face.

“Ms. Calhoun, what a pleasure,” he said, closing the distance between us.

“Yes,” Lillian said, her expression tightening, “a pleasure.”

“Lovely evening,” I said, turning toward the edge of the patio to deflect Brooks’s attempt to kiss my hand or anything else.

“We were just going inside.” Lillian moved toward the French doors.

“I couldn’t help but overhear the two of you talking about Pauline. You know, the other day I found a charm that had been on her laptop case, the same metal case the killer used to knock me unconscious.”

I rubbed my temple as if it still pained me and turned to face them.

“I was wondering if you knew anything about that charm. Pauline’s roommate had mentioned to me the other day that someone she knew in New York had given that charm to Pauline, someone
very
close to her. Was that you, Brooks?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You mean to say you didn’t give her a golden charm, like the kind you’d hang on a necklace or a bracelet?”

“What charm? I didn’t give her a charm, did I, Lil?”

“Of course you didn’t.” Lillian turned toward me. “You have to understand that my brother doesn’t actually shop for gifts for his lady friends. Jeffery, his personal assistant, handles details like that, and ever since he spent a fortune buying jewels for that conniving Joanna Lovell, I’ve been going over the books, making a list of all the gifts Jeffery’s purchased.”

“Are you certain?” If not Brooks, then who gave the charm to her? “It looked like a dollar sign encrusted with gems. Her initials had been engraved on the back.”

“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Brooks shook his head with obvious distress.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Lillian cut in. “He’s a wizard with numbers but clueless when it comes to women. Pauline was just like you, darling brother. She’d sleep with anyone who’d let her into his bed.” She turned to me. “I bet that stupid charm came from one of her other lovers.”

“There was more than one?” That surprised me. “In New York? Are you sure?”

“No,” Brooks protested.

“I’m sure,” Lillian said. She’d started to drag her brother back inside, but she stopped. “The people involved in this affair aren’t as lily white as the press portrays them to be, Ms. Calhoun. Pauline craved attention and drama. She came to me with a crazy story about Joanna’s hold on Brooks, hoping to cause friction.”

“Lillian,” Brooks hissed. This time he was the one tugging on his sister’s arm, anxious to leave.

Lillian batted his hands away. “Turned out Pauline had been right about Joanna being trouble, but it wasn’t the affair that was the problem. After reviewing the accounts, I discovered Joanna, my trusted personal attorney, had embezzled nearly half a million dollars from me. I suppose the lavish gifts she’d been getting from Brooks weren’t enough.”

“I didn’t realize.”

“We didn’t prosecute.” Lillian glared at her brother.

“She had photographs,” Brooks grumbled.

“I’m so sorry.”

“So are we, aren’t we, Brooks?” Lillian said, and dragged Brooks inside.

 

I RETURNED TO THE RESTAURANT FEELING
sorry for Brooks.

Guilt had been written all over his face when his sister had mentioned Joanna. But when I’d asked him about Pauline, he’d crinkled his nose and brows and looked simply confused.

So if not Brooks, then who strangled Pauline?

And why would Lillian think Richard had the most to gain from Pauline’s death?

“There you are.” Richard brushed a kiss on my cheek. He was holding two plates piled with hors d’oeuvres. A small stack of tiny crab cakes caught my attention.

“For me?” I took the plate and popped a crab cake in my mouth, savoring its creamy sweet taste. “Thank you.”

“What’s bothering you?” Richard asked. He smoothed out the crease between my eyes with his thumb. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone frown so hard.”

I popped another crab cake in my mouth before answering. “I thought you’d said the other day that you wanted the police to find Pauline’s stolen laptop, because it could prove to the senate committee that added regulations weren’t needed.”

“That’s right. I do.” He glanced around the room. “Who have you been talking to?”

“Lillian Keller.”

His lips pulled into an unfriendly smile. “Figures. She’s a shark and she sits at the helm of my bank’s toughest competitor. She’d love to hurt me.”

“I didn’t realize. But—”

“Come here.” He took the plate and set it on a nearby table. He then took me into his arms and kissed me.

Oh boy, Richard could kiss.

The tingling started in my toes and worked its way to the top of my head before he’d finished making love to my lips. Before today, I didn’t understand that phrase.

Joanna must have been wrong when she’d told me that Richard exclusively dated supermodels and celebrities, since I was neither. Or perhaps he’d grown tired of the gorgeous, leggy, and well-endowed types and was looking for a real woman, because the way he kissed me made me think of weddings and forever and towheaded little . . .