Sketch a Falling Star (14 page)

“Hot damn!” Zeke said, clearly pleased with himself for opening the top folder on the third try without so much as a rip or a wrinkle. But when he tried to flip through the sheets of paper inside, he scattered the pages to every corner of the room.

“The papers are lighter than the folder they’re in,” Rory said without looking up from the computer.

“Thanks for that timely reminder.” Zeke vanished from his chair to reappear near the center island. Using his energy like a leaf blower he swept the papers into a disorderly pile near Rory’s feet. “I’d be obliged if you’d pick them up, seein’ as how I’m likely to scatter them again if I try to do it.”

“In a minute. Take a look at this,” she said pointing to the monitor.

Zeke, who was positioned beside her, leaned in to see the screen, causing her to rock back in her chair rather than take the chance of letting their heads touch. “What is that,” he asked after scanning the page, “a love letter?” He shook his head and frowned. “There’s somethin’ just plain wrong about sendin’ a love letter on a machine,” he grumbled finally.

With so much of life lived online these days, that thought had never occurred to Rory. But now that he’d mentioned it, she could see his point. A handwritten letter was more intimate in many ways. Not only was the penmanship unique to the sender, but mailing it the old-fashioned way required more time and effort. With e-mail, all one had to do was click on the word “send.” Although a case could surely be made for the speed and convenience of e-mail, she had to agree that at its core, it was colder, more sterile and probably not the best form of communication where love was concerned.

“You old romantic, you,” she said with a grin. “I’ll bet you did a fine job of courting the ladies back in the day.”

“You pokin’ fun at me?” Zeke studied her face as if trying to read her real intent.

“Believe it or not, I actually agree with you, love-letter-wise, but that’s not why I wanted you to see this particular e-mail. It’s from Jessica, and it sounds as if she was completely besotted with Brian, to use a phrase from your era. Here’s a fortysomething actress whose career flatlined when she hit her thirties. She had to be devastated when Brian left her for someone so much younger—it was like another door slamming in her face.”

“Sounds like motive to me,” Zeke agreed, stepping back. “All she needed was opportunity. That flood might have been the answer to her prayers.”

Rory leaned forward again, setting the front legs of her chair back on the floor with a thud. “Unfortunately, this letter alone won’t convict her.”

“True, but I expect it’s at least earned her a visit from us.”

A
fter multiple attempts to reach the lovelorn Jessica by phone, Rory decided it was time to drop in on her unannounced. Zeke was all for the idea until she pointed out that it made no sense for him to tag along until she’d made sure the suspect was home. Why waste his time and energy for nothing?

“I’ll ring the phone here once if I get inside to talk to her. Then you can pop right over and join me. How’s that?” Rory asked, thinking he couldn’t possibly have any objections to such a sensible plan. After all, it wasn’t her fault he no longer had mortal flesh in which to travel about the world.

“I imagine it’ll have to do,” he said stoically. “Meanwhile, I’ll keep lookin’ through the files.” Rory was both relieved and surprised that he was taking such a reasonable approach to the situation. Although it was in his own best interests not to squander his energy, that realization alone was rarely enough to prevent his frustration from reaching critical mass.

She grabbed her purse and left the house before he could change his mind. Of course, if he did, there was nothing to stop him from popping into the passenger seat and once again treating people in nearby cars to the shock of their lives.

She shoved this worry into the storeroom of her mind, which was already jam-packed with other concerns over which she had no control, and slammed the door shut. If there’d been a sign on that door, it would have read “Marshal Ezekiel Drummond.”

She programmed Jessica’s address into her navigation system and headed east to Commack. Twenty minutes later, and still without a passenger, she pulled up in front of a sprawling ranch-style home with landscaping worthy of a
Better Homes and Gardens
photo shoot. Either Jessica came from money or she’d invested wisely during her brief romp with success in Hollywood.

There was a late model, white Cadillac Escalade in the driveway with its rear hatch open and several grocery bags inside. The front door to the house was open as well. The actress had apparently just returned from a shopping trip. This day, at least, she hadn’t been home screening calls.

Rory parked and locked her car. She was walking up the driveway when Jessica came out the front door wearing a cleavage-baring silver shirt, skintight black jeans and her signature stiletto heels. Unfortunately the white cast and sling on her broken arm did nothing to enhance the look she was clearly aiming for. The actress, who’d tiptoed over the forty-year mark with no public fanfare, was still a striking woman, with dark eyes canted up at the corners and long red hair of a shade not normally found in the human genome. Tall and slender, she carried herself with the confident grace of a model or an aristocrat. And from the little Rory had seen, there was a good chance she was her own most ardent fan.

When Jessica noticed her visitor standing there, the neutral expression on her face instantly morphed to surprise and then in quick succession to curiosity, bewilderment and wariness.

“Hi,” Rory said, giving her best impression of an innocent smile. She stopped when she was at the back of the SUV and waited for Jessica to approach her. If she had any hope of being invited inside, she had to let the actress feel that she was in control of the situation, the alpha female.

“Hi.” Jessica tried to produce one of her dazzling smiles in return, but her mouth wasn’t cooperating.

“I was in the area, so I thought I’d stop by to say hello.” Rory threw in a little girl shrug. No cause for concern here.

“Well, that’s…that’s nice,” Jessica said still juggling expressions.

Rory had seen her perform in enough of the troupe’s productions to know that she was a far better actress when she had lines to memorize and knew what was coming in the script. Ad-libbing was clearly not her forte.

“Let me help you with these,” Rory said, reaching into the SUV before Jessica could protest. “It must be difficult managing with one arm.” She picked up two of the grocery bags and stepped back so the actress could grab the last one. Without another word, Rory followed her into the house. That was a whole lot easier than she’d anticipated.

Once the perishables had been stowed in the refrigerator, Jessica thanked her for helping, then made the tactical error of offering her a cold drink. Rory knew it was just a reflex, civility having no doubt been drummed into her head from the day she’d learned to speak. She saw dismay supplant the other expressions still vying for air time on Jessica’s face. It was clear her reluctant hostess was hoping she’d decline the offer.

Rory almost felt bad for her. Almost. Which is why she said that water would be great even though she wasn’t actually thirsty. She needed to stay there long enough to engage Jessica in conversation and any excuse would do.

While Jessica was filling a glass from the spigot on the refrigerator door, Rory excused herself to use the bathroom. She was told she’d find it down the hall. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she hit the speed dial for home. After it rang once, she hung up. The ball was now in Zeke’s court. She counted to twenty, then flushed the toilet to make her trip to the bathroom seem legit.

When she returned to the kitchen, Jessica was putting the rest of her groceries into the walk-in pantry. She’d left the glass of water on the counter for her guest.

“Thanks,” Rory said, taking a long drink. She was setting down the glass when she felt the marshal’s tap on her shoulder. Her tension level instantly ratcheted up several notches, and she wondered if she’d ever be at ease with Zeke as her wingman. She was certainly getting to know him better with each passing day, yet in many ways he was still an unknown quantity, a land mine you didn’t realize was there until you stepped on it.

“I’m always dehydrated for days after flying. Isn’t that weird?” she said with a laugh that sounded hollow and phony even to her own ears. Lesson learned—she shouldn’t try laughing when she wasn’t actually amused.

If Jessica took note of her lame attempt at humor, she didn’t show it. She carried a box of Cheerios and a jar of almonds into the pantry without comment. But there was a tight set to her mouth that told Rory her visit there would soon be coming to an end. Any moment now Jessica was going to plead a headache or a dental appointment or some other polite excuse to get rid of her. If Rory was going to make her play, it was now or never.

“It’s now or never,” the marshal whispered too loudly in her ear.

Great, an echo—just what she needed. Hopefully Jessica hadn’t heard him.

“Is someone else here?” Jessica asked as she emerged from the pantry. “I thought I heard a man’s voice.”

“No, just me clearing my throat,” Rory said, wishing she could slam an elbow into Zeke.

The actress was looking around the room clearly puzzled. “That’s not what it sounded—”

“Listen, Jessica,” Rory cut her off before she could dwell any longer on what she’d heard. “Part of the reason I stopped by today was to express my condolences to you on Brian’s death. I wasn’t aware how close you and he had been.” There, that should get the denial train rolling nicely along.

As if on cue, Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “A word of advice,
honey
,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm and a dash of anger. “I don’t know who told you that, but if you want to make it in the PI business, you really ought to find yourself a more reliable source.”

Rory had to bite her tongue to hold back the words that were rioting in her mouth. She wanted to say that her source was her aunt and therefore unimpeachable. But calling Jessica a liar to her face could only end one way—badly. Plus, the fallout would compromise Helene’s position in the troupe. Rory would eat humble pie for a month before causing that.

“Fact one,” the actress went on, “Brian and I split up over a year ago. Fact two, it was never more than a fling for either of us. We both knew the parameters going in. And just to be clear, I don’t ever wish anyone ill—karma stamps that sort of thing ‘return to sender.’ ”

“Then you weren’t upset when he hooked up with Sophia?” Rory knew she’d crossed the line from polite interest to nosy jerk. A close friend or a cop could get away with an intrusive question like that, but she was barely an acquaintance. And after today, that status wasn’t likely to improve.

“Sophia?” Jessica coughed up a laugh that wouldn’t have won her any Oscars. “Why would I have been upset about her? I’d already moved on.”

Hardly the same version she’d heard from Helene. The actress was either trying to save face after being dumped or she was hoping to distance herself from consideration as a suspect in Brian’s death.

“So I assume you know that Clarissa hired me.” In for a penny, in for a pound, as her father liked to say.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Jessica snapped, pointedly checking her watch against the clock above the sink. “Look—I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m already late for the dentist.” She grabbed her keys and handbag from the counter and headed for the door.

Although Rory was pretty sure this was just an impromptu little skit designed expressly for her consumption, she had no choice but to follow the actress out of her house.

With a curt good-bye, Jessica climbed into her SUV and backed out of the driveway. She was already out of sight when Rory reached her car and slid into the driver’s seat.

“You there?” she asked, addressing the empty seat beside her. When there was no response she assumed the marshal had chosen to go straight home, since that was his only other option. Just as well. They could discuss Jessica later. For now Rory wanted to play out a hunch. She drove to the far end of the block and parked again. She waited there, eyes glued to the rearview mirror, expecting Jessica to return once she thought it was safe. Half an hour later, Rory gave up and left. Maybe the actress had gone to the dentist after all.

Chapter 15

R
ory had just arrived home when she got Jean Bowman’s call. After skimming over the usual pleasantries, Jean begged her to come right over. The poor woman sounded desperate, and since Zeke appeared to be otherwise occupied, Rory relocked the front door and headed down the street.

“Thanks so much for coming,” Jean said, her voice weary as she held the front door open. Her usually neat-as-a-pin, brown pageboy was in disarray as if she’d been trying to pull it out in frustration.

“It’s no problem,” Rory assured her, stepping inside. She’d only been in the center-hall colonial on a couple of occasions, but as always she was impressed by the eclectic blend of antiques with contemporary and period pieces. Either Jean had a natural flair for interior design or she had a great decorator.

“I think you know that my mother-in-law has been a handful since her stroke. She’s more work than a toddler sometimes. I’m afraid there’s no diverting or calming her once she fixates on an idea, and today, I’m sorry to say, that idea is you.”

“No need to apologize,” Rory said, wondering what Eloise had in store for her this time.

“She’s in the family room watching an old movie,” Jean said as she led the way there. “It’s the first time all day she isn’t trying to sneak over to your house or badger me into calling you, and that’s only because I told her you were coming over.”

“And she didn’t say why she needed me?”

“No, I don’t have a clue. To be honest, a lot of what she says these days makes no sense at all to me.”

Rory decided not to share the fact that whatever Eloise had told
her
so far had made perfect, if troubling, sense.