The Reunion (6 page)

He looked jittery and wiped a fine sheen of sweat from his forehead with a cocktail napkin.

“No, thanks. What is it you want to talk about?”

Like I don’t know. He’s been oiling his way around the room all evening trying to get a fish on the line and been skunked.
He was about to ask for money. Suzanne braced herself.
Oh, brother, do I have this guy pegged or what?

“Honey, I know of a great stock for you—Royal Gemstones and Precious Metals. They’re a small start-up group who buy only the best and at low prices. A simple hundred thousand this week will bring profits tenfold in a year’s time. I can guarantee it. Gold is skyrocketing. Let me handle the entire transaction at a modest ten percent and you won’t regret it.”

“Why would I buy gold now when the price is up?”

“Because it’s going to go higher.” He shot her a surprised look.

As if he can’t believe I understand the stock market. Asshole
.

“And where does this company get its gems and precious metals?”

“Uh, all over the world.”

“Including Africa?”

“A lot of diamonds are mined in South Africa.”

“A lot of diamonds are mined in other African countries to finance war at the expense of the people.”

“Suzanne, since when do you give a shit about other people?” Dave asked, his brow furrowing in a frown. His eyes held a hint of anger.

Not a good line to use during a sales pitch, jerk off. Charlie always said to trust my instincts. Good thing I listened. Dave Coryell is full of crap.

“Dave, I wouldn’t buy Mississippi mud from you. The fact is, you are the only broker remaining at your firm. The last guy quit four months ago. Your ex-wife sucked your bank account dry in the divorce. Maybe she knew Tami and took lessons. With four divorces, I’m sure
she
did quite well.

“You’re teetering on the edge of bankruptcy and none of my money is going down the drain with you. If I were a client, I’d demand an audit of my account.”

His eyes opened wide and he shifted nervously in his seat. A drop of sweat dribbled down his forehead. He wiped it with his sleeve.

“Are you calling me a thief?” His voice didn’t sound defensive, but scared.

“I wouldn’t trust you with my last two nickels. And ten percent is highway robbery. I might not have been the brightest bulb in the pack twenty years ago, but Charlie Crocker taught me a lot.”

She picked up her glass and downed the last of her cosmo.

“You had me investigated, didn’t you?” Dave said in a stunned voice.

“Of course I did. Your first probe regarding my investments had me running to the nearest private detective. Oh, and while we’re on the subject, you might want to do something about the cocaine habit you’ve acquired.”

Dave sprang to his feet, grabbing the chair before it fell over.

“You bitch!” He gave the room a quick scan, and then hissed, “You can find your own way back to Chicago.” He whirled, heading for the ballroom doors and the lobby.

“That should be no problem,” she remarked to his retreating back. She’d stay the night and grab the first flight out of Indianapolis in the morning. Suzanne glanced at her diamond-embellished Tag Heuer. Geez, only ten-thirty? Early by her standards. The whole exchange had been refreshing. She decided to grab another drink—on Dave’s tab—and blow this party from hell. She also wanted a cigarette.

It was the one bad habit she’d never completely kicked. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted one.

Suzanne snatched her evening bag from the center of the table and fished through it until finding the pack of Marlboro’s and slim gold lighter. She shook one free, stuck it between her lips, and flicked the flame to life, then sucked the sharp acrid smoke into her lungs.

God, this tastes good. Why are all the vices in the world bad for you? Can’t just one be beneficial? Guess if they were, they wouldn’t be called vices.

She blew out a thin stream of smoke and sat back in her chair, closing her eyes. She’d finish this, get a drink, and make reservations.

“I’m sorry, but the hotel has a policy of no smoking in its public areas,” a man’s pompous voice broke into her thoughts.

Her eyes popped open to stare at Dan Masterson’s disapproving face. “Excuse me?”

“There’s no smoking in the ballroom.”

Her gaze darted around the room. “I don’t see any ‘no smoking’ signs.”

“A law prohibiting smoking in public places was passed by the Indiana Legislature two years ago.”

“Then the management should put up a sign for those of us who don’t live in God’s little acre.”

“Nevertheless, it’s the law. As even you must know, secondhand smoke is deadly on several levels. It can bring on asthma attacks and allergic reactions, not to mention it’s just plain rude to pollute the air of those around you. If you must smoke, may I suggest you go onto the terrace or to your room, assuming you have one that permits the activity.”

The former class president pissed her off. He sounded like an outraged spinster at the first sign of cleavage. He hadn’t changed a bit over the years.

Suzanne squinted against the spiraling smoke. “Tell me, Dan, if I pull that stick out of your ass will your head fall off and roll across the floor?”

His nostrils flared, his lips thinned, and he glared at her from narrowed eyes. Dan leaned over until his face was a foot from hers.

“Twenty years is a long time, Suzanne, and I don’t have to take any more of the arrogant bullshit you four handed out on a regular basis.”

“You always were a self-righteous prick.”

“I knew the difference between right and wrong.”

“And you’re in politics?”

“I’ll be mayor of this town. You’ll see.”

“It still frosts your balls that we commanded more respect than you, doesn’t it? Tami changed her hairstyle, and by the end of the week all the girls in Grandview High imitated it. Eddie hauls ass into school one day wearing a blazer over his t-shirt, and the next day guess what, so was every other jock or jock wannabe. We were the in-crowd, and the in-crowd always rules. You were the stuffy, self-important, class president who wore tasseled loafers and buttoned down shirts.”

Dan straightened with a tight smile. “Tami and Eddie are dead and probably roasting in hell. If I were you, Susie Cute, I’d watch my back. Some people can hold grudges a long time.”

He strode from the table and out onto the terrace.

“Well, shit,” Suzanne muttered, absently dropping her cigarette into Dave’s unfinished drink. “If I didn’t know better I’d call that a threat.”

Why stay? She’d get her drink and call it a night. She gathered her purse and made for the bar. No one spoke to her as she passed.

“Cosmopolitan,” she told the bartender. “By the way, how much are they?”

“Eight dollars, ma’am.”

“On second thought, make it two virgins—cranberry juice only.” She fished in her purse and withdrew a twenty. “Charge me for the cosmos and consider this your tip.”

She signed Dave’s room number to the tab and hoped he choked on his bar bill. He deserved it.

Suzanne tucked her silver clutch evening bag under her arm, grabbed both drinks, and stepped around knots of chatting people on her way to the terrace doors.

****

I broke off my conversation with a group of classmates and wound my way through the crowd toward the terrace. Suzanne Wayland had just left the room—alone. Probably for a smoke, either on the patio or in the garden. While I was sure the foul-mouthed bitch wasn’t a nature lover, her attitude tonight angered a lot of people. I doubted idle conversation was on the agenda and put my money on the garden.

I hurried through the doors just in time to see her blue dress disappear down the path toward the koi pond. Trying to look casual, I followed. A lot of people took advantage of the lull in dancing to gather and chat outside. I didn’t think anyone would notice one more person in the throng.

The pathway was dimly lit and to avoid the sound of the gravel crunching under my feet, I tiptoed along the grassy edge. Rounding a curve, I paused and slipped my hand into my pocket. The cool metal of the stun gun met my fingers. The koi pond was just ahead and through the filtered glow of the tier lights, I saw Suzanne a few feet from the water puffing on a cigarette.

Time to die, you bitch.

I withdrew the stun gun, activated the switch and rushed forward. She didn’t have a chance to even turn around. I jammed the weapon against the back of her neck and pressed the button, holding it down for a good five seconds. The cigarette dropped from her fingers as Suzanne lurched toward the pond. The smell of singed hair drifted to my nostrils. I released the button and pushed her to the edge of the rock rimmed pool. She fell just short, but still far enough for me to kneel on her back and hold her head underwater.

The stun gun effects didn’t last as long as I thought. Within a minute, she came to life and struggled, but it was too late. I pushed harder until all movement ceased, then heaved her legs into the water.

Slowly, I backed away, my panting breaths the only sound other than the burbling from a waterfall in the pond. Suzanne’s hair floated on the surface like seaweed. I stared, mesmerized by the sight. Distant laughter brought me out of my daze. I needed to get out of here. I moved and kicked something on the path—Suzanne’s purse. No sense in leaving it here. I tossed it into the bushes. Casting one last satisfied glance at the pond, I hurried to the gate separating the garden from the parking lot, reentering the hotel through the main doors. A group of people sat in the lobby, but no one bothered to look up. I skirted along the perimeter and headed for the stairs.

Number four dispatched with almost no resistance. Soon numbers five and six will join the others.

The thought made me feel invincible—like a God.

****

Outside, Suzanne turned right and made her way to the far end of the long patio. The air had cooled, and a light breeze rustled the foliage in the garden below. She found a bench wedged between the waist-high stone balustrade and several potted plants. Sitting, she sipped one cranberry juice and set the other down, then lit another cigarette.

She exhaled and watched the smoke disappear on the wind. She sipped again. Several people climbed the steps from the garden. Their laughter irritated her. Suzanne was tired of people having a good time when she was miserable and pissed off.

She leaned back and puffed between sips. Someone exited the ballroom and crossed the terrace to gaze into the garden. Suzanne peeked around the edge of the potted plant.

Shit. It was Annabelle Peterson. The woman lifted the hair from her nape and raised her face to catch the breeze.

Not wanting to be seen by or talk to someone she’d insulted, she wiggled into the corner of the bench. Annabelle disappeared down the steps into the garden.

Suzanne breathed a sigh of relief and slid further along the bench until the steps were hidden from view. She crushed out her cigarette in one of the plants and finished her virgin cosmo. With her head laid back against the building, she closed her eyes. More footsteps crossed the terrace from the ballroom, hesitated for a moment, and then descended the steps.

Just a few moments of fresh air. That’s all I need, and then I can go to bed. I’ll call the airlines in the morning.

She willed herself to relax and forget about Dave, Glory, Annabelle, and that horse’s ass, Dan Masterson. She especially wanted to forget about Tami and Eddie.

More people wandered onto the terrace, into the gardens, and back again. Small snatches of conversation drifted her way, but Suzanne shut them out. The booze made her groggy, and she slipped into that realm of twilight sleep—not awake, but not asleep either.

She had no idea how long she dozed. A loud bark of laughter brought her back to full consciousness. She sat upright and peered around the screen of greenery. The band had resumed and music drifted out into the night. On the far side of the terrace, she noticed a couple dancing in the shadows. Five or six people stood near the doors.

“Laugh all you want, but I can feel my hips growing. The food was fantastic, but I need to walk it off.” Eileen Raymond said. “Anyone care to join me in the garden?”

“Are you kidding? Those pathways are crushed stone. I’ll break a heel,” a woman responded.

“Not me. I’m afraid of the dark,” a man replied with a chuckle.

Eileen waved at their jokes and sauntered down the steps, then turned left.

Suzanne sipped her second cranberry juice, and then dumped it into the plant.

She pulled another cigarette from her purse, and lit up. About to leave, the conversation stopped her cold.

“Did you see Suzanne Wayland? She was alone almost all night,” one of the women said.

“Yeah, Dave Coryell practically ignored her,” another female voice chimed in. “Wonder how she likes being on the outside looking in for a change. Serves her right.”

“I feel kind of sorry for her,” a man answered. “I heard her husband died.”

“And left her pots of money,” one of the women added in a scornful tone. “Must have taken her down a peg to see Annabelle Peterson in the same dress.”

“How come women are so catty? So it was the same dress? So what?”

“Men just don’t get it.”

“Come on, let’s go back inside. I’m ready to dance again.”

Suzanne gulped the anger burning at her throat.

“Jealous bunch of bitches. How many of them are wearing designer originals? How many of them are sporting fifty thousand dollars worth of diamonds tonight?” she muttered in distain.

She wanted to run over and kick all of them in the ass with her Jimmy Choos.

The laughter still echoed when a scream ripped the night air.

Chapter Four

Meghan jerked away from Zach as the scream was repeated, closer this time. Stumbling footsteps accompanied by ragged breathing emanated from the graveled pathway to her left.

“What the hell?” Zach said.