Soft rock music and the aroma of warming canapés wafted toward us when Helena welcomed us into her condo. Tonight’s getup was a purple harem outfit: a plunging, fitted bodice trimmed with gold-colored coins and gauzy harem pants gathered at the ankles. More gauzy fabric hung from the round, boxlike headpiece atop her blonde hair.
“Here you are at last!” She hugged and kissed us as if we were long-lost relatives. “Toss your coats on the sofa in the den and then come inside and join the party.”
She thrust her hand, holding a wineglass, in the direction of the den and splashed wine on Jared’s shirt. “Oh, sorry.” She tried to wipe the damp spot with the fabric of her headpiece.
Jared pulled back. “It’s okay, Helena. Really.” He handed her the bottle of champagne. “For you. To celebrate your new home.”
“Why, thank you. I’ll put this in the fridge for later.”
We added our coats to the pile on the den sofa, and Jared studied the wine spot in the mirror. “She’s drunk already.”
“At least it’s white wine. It won’t stain.”
He grimaced. “Still, who wants to start off an evening with a wine-drenched shirt?”
We entered the living room.
“Jared! Carrie! Over here.” Bryce, Ryan, and Gillian stood before the picture window at the far end of the room, drinks in hand.
We exchanged greetings, and Bryce gestured to the window. “Helena has a wonderful view of the lake from here and from her bedroom upstairs.”
I nodded, though it was too dark to see anything outside.
“The condo’s perfect for her,” he enthused. “An updated kitchen, living room-dining room, den, and half-bath downstairs; two bedrooms and baths above.”
“Don’t forget to admire her new furniture.” Ryan patted his father’s shoulder.
“Very nice,” I said, though the wood-framed, white-tufted sofa and matching chairs were not pieces I’d ever choose.
Gillian winked at me, and I knew she was thinking the same thing.
Jared went to the bar in the dining room to get a glass of wine for me and a beer for himself. Helena appeared with a tray of pigs in a blanket. She wobbled on her spiked heels, and I feared the canapés would end up on the Persian carpet. But she managed to offer them to her four seated guests and to us without incident.
I was about to follow Helena into the kitchen to ask if I could help when George and Ken Talbot left their seats to join us. I was delighted to see them and hugged them both. Besides Gillian, they were the only people I was going to miss when I stopped dating Jared. Two women stood hovering behind them.
George reached for the hand of the pretty brunette and drew her into our circle. “Carrie, meet Pam Hamilton, my significant other. Pam, you remember Jared.”
“Hi, Pam.”
We shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” she said.
“My pleasure.” She flashed me a friendly smile.
The overweight blonde in the tight red dress moved closer, forcing Pam and George to step back. “Hi, I’m Helena’s friend, Francine Lonnigan.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed louder than I’d meant to.
“Oh, what?” Francine asked belligerently.
“Nothing—that is, Helena mentioned you the other day.”
“I told her you were the wonderful person responsible for my buying the condo of my dreams.” Helena joined us.
I didn’t dare ask Francine why her husband had come to hear Al Buckley’s presentation. If he had, as Helena had told me.
“Our meal is about ready. Why don’t we sit down at the dining room table?” Helena smiled. “I know you’ll forgive me for catering instead of making it myself.”
“Of course we do.” Bryce slipped an arm around her waist. “You’ve been so busy these last few weeks; I don’t know how you managed to pull this together.”
“It was nothing.” Helena stepped back from his embrace. She turned to Jared and me. “Would you like to see the rest of the place?”
“I’d love to,” I said.
“Follow me for a fast tour.” Helena led us past the dining room table set for ten and into the kitchen. “As you can see, the kitchen was remodeled only last year.”
“Lovely.” I took in the speckled granite counters and stainless-steel appliances as we walked through to the hall.
“You saw the den. I’ve ordered a large TV. It’s being delivered next week.”
The master bedroom was something to gush over. It was L-shaped, like the living room-dining room downstairs, with a sitting area and four windows that looked out on the artificial lake.
“You sure have plenty of closet space,” I said as Helena opened two gigantic walk-in closets.
“Wait till you see my bathroom.”
It was like a Roman bath, with four columns rising from the steps leading to a Jacuzzi. There were two sinks, a large shower, and the latest in commodes.
Jared and I oohed and ahhed, admiring the various shower nozzles that sprang from the wall.
“Of course, the guest bedroom and bath aren’t as snazzy,” Helena said as we walked back through her bedroom.
I scrutinized the room, on the lookout for places where objects might be hidden. I doubted the king-size bed and small nightstands—each with a narrow drawer—held any secrets, but the double dresser and closets were possibilities. The question was, how could I find out?
“The guest bathroom.” Helena scowled as she pointed to the small, windowless room. “I can’t imagine why they chose these awful bubblegum-pink tiles. And the wallpaper! Reminds me of a circus.”
She’s right. The striped pink, green, yellow, and white paper was garish.
I trailed Helena and Jared into the guest room. It held a bed, a lamp on a small nightstand, a desk in the corner on which stood a computer and printer, and a narrow chest of drawers I knew was a jewelry armoire. On it was a five-by-eight photograph of a man in a suit. He had nice, even features. From his smile, I got the impression he’d been warm and easygoing.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“My late husband, Lloyd. He died thirteen years ago. Lloyd’s heart gave out while he was going over blueprints in a client’s office.”
“I’m sorry. He was very handsome.”
“Wasn’t he? Ready to go? I don’t want our dinner to burn.”
That was a weird response. No expression of love or caring. As Jared and I followed Helena downstairs, I frantically wondered what excuse I could use to return to snoop around the bedrooms. Surely if there was something to find, it would be in one of the drawers. But what was I after? What could I possibly uncover that might prove Lloyd or Helena had murdered Laura?
Jared tried to steer me into the dining room, where the others were seated, but I pulled away.
“Can I help you serve?” I asked Helena.
“I’d appreciate it.” She smiled, once again the happy-go-lucky hostess.
She removed a large bowl filled with salad from the fridge and handed it to me. “Ask everyone to start serving themselves.”
“Will do.” I set the bowl on the dining room table.
Gillian followed me into the kitchen. “I’ve come to help.”
I grinned, welcoming her company as Helena removed three foil-covered trays of food from the oven.
“The mitts are over there.” Helena gestured with her chin. “Place the silver-colored hot-tray mats on the table and put a tray on each.”
We followed her instructions.
“I’m amazed at how you were able to unpack everything in just a few days,” Gillian said.
“I had a tag sale before I moved. Got rid of everything I didn’t need.”
But she kept the photo of her husband. What did she do with her wedding pictures? Photos of vacations?
“Carrie, there are two bottles of diet soda and seltzer and water in the fridge.”
I carried in the bottles. Everything else was out on the table. Helena peeled back the trays’ sheets of foil, revealing shrimp parmesan, chicken cacciatore, and baked ziti.
Bryce rubbed his hands together. “Everything looks delicious.”
We all expressed our agreement.
Helena grinned. “Thank you all. I’m glad to see you brought the wine to the table. Eat, drink, and be merry.”
Bryce stood. “A toast to Helena and her new home. We’re glad to have her back in Clover Ridge.”
I smiled at Jared, who had brought our glasses to the table, and sipped my wine in Helena’s honor.
The food was delicious. Francine asked Helena where she’d gotten it, which led to a discussion of local Italian restaurants and then to restaurants in general. Jared commented on a few of the restaurants we’d been to. I remained silent, hoping someone would open up the discussion of the murders or mention Lloyd, but no one did.
We’d just about finished eating when Pam stood. She must have looked uncertain, because Helena said, “The bathroom’s to the left of the den.”
“Right.”
I had my excuse! I waited a few minutes and then got up.
Helena noticed. “Why don’t you use the guest bathroom upstairs?”
“Thanks,” I murmured as Francine and Gillian helped her clear the table.
Where to first? I dashed into the master bedroom and pulled open the dresser drawers. I was careful not to mess the neatly folded bras and panties and the drawer full of nightgowns as I searched. I ran my hands over the sweaters crammed in the bottom drawer. Nothing.
Do I have time to check the closet? The nightstands? To cover my tracks, I flushed the toilet in the guest bathroom and turned on the faucet, aware of time rushing by. I had only a few minutes before my absence would be noted.
I crossed the hall to the guest bedroom. Lloyd Koppel smiled at me as I jerked open drawer after drawer of the jewelry armoire, exposing Helena’s array of rings, necklaces, and dangling earrings. I let out a yelp of surprise when I saw them. Amid the gold chains strewn about the lowest drawer was a wide gold bracelet and a vintage peacock pin.