When All The Girls Have Gone (10 page)

The birthday party was in full swing when Max arrived. He stood in the doorway and watched Charlotte hand out slices of cake and glasses of pink punch to a crowd of seniors.

The partygoers appeared to range in age from early seventies to late nineties. One or two might have been pushing a hundred. The banner strung across the room read
Happy Birthday.
Balloons bobbed and colorful streamers hung from the ceiling.

An elderly woman with a helmet of white curls wheeled her walker forward and stopped directly in front of him.

“Come on in,” she said. “Join the party. I’m Ethel Deeping, by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Deeping,” he said.

“Call me Ethel. The party is for everyone here at Rainy Creek Gardens who has a birthday this month. Plenty of cake and punch.”

“Thanks,” he said. “But I just came by to speak with Ms. Sawyer.”

“Charlotte?” Ethel glanced toward the cake table. “She’s right over there.” Ethel raised her voice. “
Charlotte
. There’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Charlotte glanced up at the sound of her name. Max thought he glimpsed a little spark of welcome in her eyes when she saw him. But maybe that was just his imagination. Or wishful thinking.

“Thank you, Ethel,” she said. She smiled at Max and held out a paper plate with a slice of cake on it. “Would you like a piece?”

He realized that every eye in the room was on him. There was open curiosity and speculation on every well-lined face. He was aware that a few of the celebrants were watching him with something that looked a lot like suspicion.

“Sure,” he said.

He walked to the cake table and took the paper plate. Charlotte handed him a plastic fork. He took a bite.

The buzz of conversation immediately got louder.

He moved a little closer to Charlotte and lowered his voice.

“Why is everyone staring at me?” he asked.

“They’re just curious about you,” she whispered.

“Because I’m a stranger?”

“Well, not entirely. I’m afraid it’s more about me than it is about you. The last man who dropped by to see me here at Rainy Creek Gardens was my fiancé. He came to tell me that he couldn’t go through with the marriage.”

“He did it here? In public? With all your coworkers and the residents around?”

“Brian said he thought it would be easier for me that way.”

Dumbfounded, Max stared at her. “Easier? For you?”

“You know, so I wouldn’t be alone afterward. He said he knew that I would be among friends who could comfort me.”

“That’s complete bullshit.”

He didn’t realize that he had spoken into one of those strange silences that can fall over a room without warning until the words were out of his mouth. By then it was too late.

The birthday crowd froze. He was suddenly the focal point of a variety of expressions that ranged across the spectrum from stern disapproval to acute interest. He was sure he heard a couple of snorts of muffled laughter.

At the back of the room a tall woman with thinning gray hair rammed her cane against the floor a couple of times.

“What did he say?” she demanded in a voice that carried the weight of authority.

Max figured her for a retired professor or maybe a doctor.

“He said
bullshit
,” Ethel responded, raising her own voice to make sure the questioner heard her.

“For pity’s sake,” Charlotte muttered.

“Why’d he say
bullshit
?” the woman with the cane asked.

“Good question,” someone else said.

“This is your problem,” Charlotte said out of the side of her mouth. “You solve it.”

There was another sudden silence. Max swallowed a bite of cake and faced the crowd.

“Ms. Sawyer just told me that her former fiancé, who evidently was an asshole, came here to Rainy Creek Gardens to tell her that he was calling off the wedding. She said she thought he chose to drop the bomb on her here for her sake. She thinks the s.o.b. was trying to be thoughtful. He didn’t want her to be alone afterward. He wanted her to have friends around who could comfort her. I said that was bullshit. He did it here because he knew she wouldn’t make a scene in front of all of you.”

“Damn right,” a man declared.

“Bullshit, for sure,” another man said.

“Yep, he did it here to save his own hide,” Ethel announced. “That jerk was a coward if ever there was one. You’re better off without him, Charlotte.”

A chorus of voices chimed in, agreeing with Ethel’s conclusion.

Max looked at Charlotte.

“They’re right,” he said. “You’re better off without him.”

Charlotte gave him a steely look. “Why, exactly, did you come here, Mr. Cutler?”

“I wanted to see if we could meet after you get off work. Maybe have drinks. I have a few things to discuss with you.”

A ripple of approval swept across the room.

Ethel beamed. “Say yes, Charlotte. This one looks like a much better catch than the jerk.”

“Thank you,” Max said. “But it doesn’t sound like the jerk set the bar very high.”

There was another wave of laughter.

Charlotte’s jaw tensed.

Max lowered his voice and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

“I tracked down the Loring detective who handled your stepsister’s case. He’s willing to answer a few questions.”

Charlotte caught her breath. Her eyes widened with excitement. “I leave here at five. Would it be convenient for you to come to my apartment around six? We would have some privacy there.”

“I can do that,” he said.

Madison waited until she was certain that her administrative assistant had left the office. When she was satisfied that she was alone, she took out her phone.

Victoria answered immediately, her voice terse with dread.

“Did you get the warning, too?” she asked.

“Yes.” Madison walked to the wall of windows. Her office was on the thirty-seventh floor of the office tower. She had a sweeping view of Elliott Bay and the Olympics beyond. “I just heard from Emily. She said she received the same message.”

“At least that means that Jocelyn’s alive. She’s gone into hiding.”

“Not necessarily. That message was sent from an anonymous e-mail address. There’s no way to know if Jocelyn was the sender.”

“What are you talking about?” Victoria asked, clearly startled. “Who else could have sent it? Only the five of us knew the emergency code.”

“Exactly. Now Louise is dead and Jocelyn is off the grid—supposedly.”

“Where are you going with this?” Victoria demanded.

“It occurs to me that Emily might have sent the code. She’s very, very good with computers. She would know how to make the message look like it came from an anonymous e-mail address.”

There was a short, startled silence before Victoria responded.

“But why would she do that?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I can think of one possible scenario and, frankly, it scares the shit out of me.”

“What?”

“The Keyworth Investment.”

“What about it?” But Victoria sounded wary now.

“The buyout looks like a sure thing. There’s a lot of money at stake.”

“Oh, shit, Madison. You can’t be serious.”

“Originally we were going to split it five ways. But with one member of the club dead, that becomes a four-way split. And if two members of the club are gone, we’re down to a three-way split. What if it doesn’t stop there? What if another member of the club suffers an unfortunate accident or an overdose? You or me, for instance?”

“You’re saying that Emily is deliberately getting rid of the members of the club? But you’re the one who brought her into the group.”

“She seemed like a good fit at the time. And she had the skill set we needed. I think she saw it as a game at first. But maybe now she sees the opportunity of a lifetime—a chance to make a fortune off the Keyworth deal.”

“Are you sure about any of this?”

“No,” Madison admitted. “But in my world, the first rule is to follow the money.”

“Emily is as nervous as the rest of us. You saw her.”

“Maybe it’s an act.”

“If Emily really did murder Louise, it means she had access to some exotic street drugs and knew how to use them to kill someone.”

“It’s not rocket science,” Madison said. “Emily volunteers at the shelter. A lot of the people who come and go from that place are dealing with drug issues. It wouldn’t have been difficult to hook up with a dealer. All Emily would have needed was a date rape drug to render Louise unconscious. After she was out, Emily could have injected her with the lethal stuff.”

“You’ve got this all figured out, don’t you?”

“I’ve had time to think about it.”

“So, are you going to run, too?”

“It’s not that easy,” Madison said. “I’ve got to stay on top of the Keyworth deal. I can’t afford to disappear while it’s brewing. Too many things can derail the buyout at the last minute.”

“Can’t you keep an eye on it online? You don’t have to be here in Seattle, do you?”

Madison tightened her grip on the phone. Her stomach clenched.
So much money at stake
.

“I can’t just vanish like Jocelyn did,” she said.

“Suit yourself. I could really use my share of the profits, but I’m not going to risk my life for them.”

“You can’t stay lost forever,” Madison said.

“No, but I can stay gone until we find out what is going on. If you’re right, then this thing will end after the buyout takes place. I’m leaving tonight.”

“Vicky, wait, where will you go?”

“My aunt’s place on the coast, at least for now.” Victoria paused. “By the way, since you’re weaving conspiracy theories, I’ve got one for you.”

“What?”

“Maybe Emily isn’t the one we should be worrying about.”

Madison almost stopped breathing. “You think maybe
Jocelyn
is the problem?”

“She’s the one who disappeared first,” Victoria said. “And she’s almost as good with computers as Emily. Good-bye, Madison.”

The connection went dead.

Charlotte sliced the very expensive cheese that she had picked up in the Pike Place Market on the way home and reminded herself again that the appointment with Max was not a date.

He was coming to her apartment to tell her about his conversation with the retired Loring police detective.

It was definitely not a date.

But the knowledge that he would soon be at her front door sent another little rush of anticipation through her. It was a weird sensation. She hadn’t invited any man up to her apartment since the disaster with Brian Conroy.

Jocelyn had begun to lose patience with her and had accused her of hiding from the world. But it hadn’t felt like she was hiding out, she thought. Instead it was as if she had simply lost interest in that aspect of life.

She wondered what Max expected from their meeting. He probably saw it as a business appointment, too. After all, he was a professional.

She studied the neatly arranged slices of cheese on the plate. Max looked very fit and quite healthy. He probably had a good appetite.

She added the remainder of the cheese and a few more crackers to the plate. She wouldn’t produce the wine and the cheese unless the situation felt comfortable. If it didn’t feel right, she would let Max deliver his report and then see him out the door. She would drink the wine and eat the cheese all by herself.

The muffled ring of her phone sent a jolt of alarm through her.

Max. He was calling to cancel the appointment.

She could almost hear Jocelyn mocking her.
That’s it, think positive
.

It dawned on her that the reason her phone sounded muffled was because she had forgotten to take it out of her shoulder bag. She hurried into the living room and retrieved the device.

She glanced at the screen. And froze. She had removed Brian Conroy from her list of contacts just hours after he had told her that he could not bring himself to go through with the marriage, but she recognized his number.

She really, really did not want to talk to him. On the other hand, she had once been convinced that she was in love with him and she wanted to believe that his feelings for her had been real, too, at least for a while. He was not a bad person, she thought. In hindsight she realized that she had reason to be grateful to him. After all, he had changed his mind before the wedding rather than afterward.

She also knew what Jocelyn would have said if she were standing there:
Dump the bastard’s call
.

She took the call, telling herself it was pure curiosity that made her do it.

“Hello,” she said, going for casual.

“Charlotte, sweetie, it’s so good to hear your voice. I’ve been worrying about you. I wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”

He sounded sincere. It was the
sweetie
that rankled. She tried to analyze her reaction and was vaguely surprised to discover that she was mostly impatient and annoyed. She glanced at the clock. She had a guest due any minute now.

“I’m fine, Brian, but I’m a little busy at the moment,” she said. “Thanks for checking up on me. Got to go now—”

“Wait, don’t hang up. I really need to talk to you.”

“I can’t imagine why. Look, I’ve got someone coming by soon and—”

“Taylor is no longer in the picture.”

He sounded as if he were announcing the end of the world. Film at eleven.

She went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to see if the bottle of white wine she had stuck inside earlier was getting properly chilled.

“Who in the world is Taylor?” she said. “Oh, right. Taylor. The woman you said was in a bad relationship. You were going to rescue her, as I recall.”

“She used me.”

“No shit. Sorry, got to run.”

Now she sounded downright vengeful.
So what? I’m entitled
.

“Sweetie, I know you’ve probably got some issues because of what happened, but deep down you and I are friends.”

“Got news for you. Friends don’t leave friends with the bills for a canceled wedding. I just finished paying off the damn dress and the flowers.”

“That’s not right. You should have gotten refunds on everything.”

The outrage in his words would have been laughable under other circumstances.

“There are these little paragraphs called cancellation clauses in all the contracts,” she said. “If you had given me a couple of months’ notice instead of a few days, I could have gotten most of the money back, but that’s not what happened, is it? Good-bye, Brian.”

“Sweetie, please, I really need to talk to you.”

“You want my advice?”

“Of course. You always see things so clearly.”

“Here are my words of wisdom.
Do not call me sweetie
.”

“You sound bitter and angry. That’s not like you, Charlotte.”

“Turns out I can hold a grudge. Who knew?”

She zapped the call and dropped the phone on the counter. For a moment she stood very still, aware that she was buzzed on a shot of pure adrenaline. Okay, refusing to let Brian cry on her shoulder was probably a very mean and petty sort of revenge, but damn, it was exhilarating.

Jocelyn would have cheered, she thought.

The rush faded, but her mood did not. She hurried down the short hall to check her hair and makeup. She had a feeling Max would be right on time.

It was not a date, she reminded herself one last time. They were going to discuss some very serious matters. But, as Jocelyn would say, a little lipstick never hurt. It gave a woman confidence.