Killing Her Softly (11 page)

ter
, he'd hated her because dear old dad had given her all the love, adoration and time he'd never given Wythe.

What did it matter now? Lulu was dead.

Wythe lifted his glass tumbler in a salute. "Here's to you, Lulu, my love. You finally got what you deserved."

Emotion tightened in
Wythe's
chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. Tears swam in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. As he took a hefty swig of the Scotch and soda, salty tears dripped into his mouth.

A mournful keening sound rose from inside him and erupted in an agonized cry. He threw the tumbler across the room. When the glass hit the wall, it shattered into several large chunks and numerous tiny shards. Wythe dropped to his knees and wept.

"I tried to warn you, didn't I? I told you to be careful. But you liked playing with fire. None of them loved you the way I did. Didn't I tell you that I was the only one you could count on, that I was the one who'd never leave you?"

Wythe sucked in deep gulps of air and forced his emotions under control. Now wasn't the time to fall apart. He had to show the old man that he could count on him just as much as he counted on Annabelle. Dear cousin Annabelle. Blessed Saint Annabelle.

He should be the one in Memphis representing the
Vanderley
family. After all, Lulu was his sister. If he was there instead of Annabelle, he'd be the one who could tell his father when Lulu's killer was caught and brought to justice.

It's not too late,
he thought. /
can still go to Memphis. I have every right to be there.

Wythe came up off his knees, stood shakily on his feet and went straight to the telephone on the nightstand beside his bed. Earlier today, he had memorized the number for the
Vanderley
apartment in Memphis, intending to call Annabelle to check on the investigation into Lulu's murder. He sat on the edge of the bed lifted the receiver and dialed the number.

Annabelle answered on the second ring. "Hello."

"I assume you don't have any news I can relay to Father," Wythe said.

"No, Wythe, I don't. If I had news, I would have called Uncle Louis."

"Don't the police know anything more than they did yesterday?"

"Wythe, have you been drinking? You sound odd. If you're drunk, whatever you do, don't go in to see Uncle Louis until you've sobered up. The last thing he needs is—"

"You always know what everyone needs, don't you, Annabelle? Well, you sure as hell didn't know that Lulu needed protection, did you? You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Please, don't drink anything else. Have Hiram prepare you some coffee and—"

"I'm coming to Memphis."

"What?"

"She was my sister. I loved her. I'm the one who should be there overseeing things, not you."

"Wythe, do not come to Memphis."

"I'm coming. And you can't stop me."

Annabelle sighed. Wythe hated her little exasperated sighs, those disgruntled utterances that let him know how displeased she was with him.

"If you're determined to come to Memphis, at least wait until you've sobered up."

"I'll leave first thing in the morning," he said. "I'll stay there with you, of course."

"No, you won't. Get a suite at the Peabody."

Wythe laughed. Damn the high-and-mighty bitch. "You get a suite at the Peabody if you don't want to share the family digs there in Memphis. I have as much right to stay there as you do." Before she could say anything else, utter one more word of protest, he hung up on her.

Somebody needed to take dear cousin Annabelle down a peg or two. She was much too sure of herself and he was sick and tired of her thinking she was superior to him. They were both
Vanderleys
, weren't they? What gave her the right to treat him as if he were dirt under her feet?

"You'd better start treating me good Annabelle, 'cause if you don't, you'll be sorry. I'll bet Lulu's sorry that she was so mean to me the last time I saw her."

As the dial tone hummed in Annabelle's ears, she suddenly realized that someone was at the door. Taking a minute to compose herself after her less than pleasant conversation with Wythe, she replaced the receiver, squared her shoulders and tilted her chin.
That's probably Sergeant George,
she thought, then sighed. At least with the young policeman, she'd be safe from confrontation. She'd had enough of that for one day, first with Quinn Cortez and then with Wythe.

When she opened the door, she greeted her guest with a cordial smile, one she hoped told him that he was welcome. "Please, come in."

He entered then waited for her to close the door and move ahead of him into the room. "I appreciate your seeing me, Ms.
Vanderley
."

"May I offer you something to drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you. Not right now." He studied her closely. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Your cheeks are flushed."

"Oh, it's nothing. I just had a disagreement with my cousin Wythe over the phone. My face tends to turn pink when I get upset. It's the curse of having a very fair complexion."

Chad smiled warmly, then asked "Wythe is Lulu's brother, right?"

"Half brother. Same father, different mothers." Chad nodded.

"Where are my manners? Please,
¹
sit down, Sergeant George." She hoped he wouldn't ask her any questions about the disagreement with Wythe. Her personal animosity toward her cousin and the reasons for it were no one else's concern. Like the rest of the
Vanderleys
, she believed that family business should stay in the family.

"I'd like it if you called me Chad."

"All right. . . Chad. And you must call me Annabelle."

After sitting on the sofa, Sergeant George—Chad— reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a neatly folded packet of papers. "These are copies of Lulu's date book entries for the past couple of months. My partner and I have gone over them and on the surface, there doesn't seem to be anything there that might help us . . . except. . ."

"Except?"

Annabelle sat beside Chad and when he held out the papers to her, she took them from him. Even though her nerves were still a bit ragged after dealing with both Quinn Cortez and Wythe in the space of fifteen minutes, her hands were steady. She prided herself on keeping herself in check, in holding everything deep within her. Her emotions were private, not for public display. She'd learned how to pretend to be happy when inside she was dying during the years she struggled to be Chris's faithful and devoted companion.

"Except there are two men, other than Quinn Cortez, mentioned in her date book during the past two months and I—we—were wondering if you know either man."

Reading through Lulu's date book seemed like an invasion into her cousin's privacy. Seeing the little notes she'd scribbled in the margins, the funny doodles she'd made here and there, reminded Annabelle what a great sense of humor Lulu had. As a teenager, wherever she wrote anything, she'd always dotted the letter
i
with cute heart shapes and used hot pink and bright purple inks.

"Do you have any idea who Randy is?" Chad asked.

"Randy? I'm not sure, but it could be Randall Miller. Or it might be Randolph
Chamness
. I know Lulu was involved with Randolph in the past, but I don't recall her mentioning him in a couple of years. I'd start with Randall Miller. I seem to recall that Lulu called both men Randy. Actually, she referred to them as 'my Randy boy one' and 'my Randy boy two.'"

"Does Randall Miller live in the Memphis area?"

"As a matter of fact, he does. He's in real estate, I believe."

"That Randall Miller?"

Annabelle smiled. "Yes, the one who's on TV and all the billboards. Mr. Memphis Real Estate."

"Isn't he like fifty and married?"

"Yes, he is."

"Would he have a reason to kill Lulu?"

Annabelle sensed that Chad wanted her to assure him that her cousin's married lover had no reason to want her dead. The sergeant thought he already had his man. He wanted Quinn Cortez to be guilty. But why?

"As far as I know, no one had a motive to kill Lulu."

"Miller is a married man. If Lulu had threatened to tell his wife—"

"That wasn't Lulu's style," Annabelle said. "She wasn't into long-term relationships. It wouldn't have served any purpose for her to have told Randall Miller's wife about the affair."

"Okay. We'll check Miller out, ask him a few questions. If he has an alibi for Friday night, then that'll be that." "And if he doesn't?" "We'll dig a little deeper."

Annabelle flipped through the copied pages of Lulu's date book and her heart stopped when she read the first entry that mentioned
Broo
. Scanning hurriedly she noticed the name at least half a dozen more times. "What's the other name you wanted to ask me about?" she inquired knowing full well what he would say.

"Do you know someone Lulu referred to as
Broo
?"

Gripping the date book pages, Annabelle considered her options. She had two—tell the truth or lie. She chose the former. "
Broo
was a nickname Lulu used for her brother Wythe. When she was a toddler, she couldn't say the word
brother,
which is how Uncle Louis referred to Wythe. When she tried to say brother, it came out
Broo
. The name stuck. I don't think Lulu ever called Wythe anything else."

"Then these notations—phone calls and dates—were with her brother?"

Annabelle nodded. "Yes. They were very close and kept in touch on a regular basis."

"I hate to ask this, but is there any reason—"

"Wythe was at home Friday night, attending a charity function there that the
Vanderleys
were hosting."

Chad smiled. "No way a man can be in two places at once, is there?"

"No, I suppose not."

"I realize we've already asked you this, but I thought now that you've had time to think about it—do you recall anything Lulu might have said to you recently about someone threatening her or an argument she might have had with someone?"

"I hadn't spoken to Lulu in several weeks. I phoned her to give her an update concerning Uncle Louis's latest doctor's visit."

Lulu had said, "I'm glad Daddy's doing as well as he is. Give him my love and tell him that I'll be home for Easter and I'm bringing a guest. I have a big surprise for him, for all of you."

"What did you two talk about during that last conversation?"

"Nothing much. The entire conversation didn't last five minutes." Annabelle considered whether to share anything else with Chad—with the police.
You might think it means nothing, but what if by telling them what Lulu said, it might help in some way?
"Lulu told me that she had a surprise for the family, but she didn't even give me a hint as to what it might be."

"And you don't have any idea what—"

"None whatsoever."

"Did she say anything else?"

"Just that she was bringing someone home with her for Easter. And before you ask, no, she didn't say who and I don't know."

"Was she in the habit of bringing guests home for holidays?"

"Lulu wasn't in the habit of coming home for holidays. She hadn't been home even for Christmas in two years and it's been four since she came home for Easter."

"What did you make of what she said?" Chad asked. "A guest for Easter and a big surprise might have meant a special man in her life and maybe an engagement."

"Yes, that thought did cross my mind."

"Apparently she wasn't contemplating marriage to Randy, since he's married. Or to
Broo
, since he's her brother. By process of elimination, that leaves only one other man mentioned in Lulu's date book these past six or seven weeks."