Chapter Thirteen

“Holy Twisted Sister!” Juan Carlos exclaimed. “We all knew Trinity was one twist short of a slinky, but that level of crazy’s in the blood. Poor Dhane.”

Alex remained quiet, his head bent over his notebook, scribbling furiously.

“What are you writing?” I asked him.

“I’m making a note to contact someone in the Newton, Kansas, PD to find out if any charges were ever filed in that case. It’s doubtful I’ll get much, since Trinity was a minor and those records are usually sealed. But I may get lucky enough to get the detective’s impressions and maybe some insider info on the case.”

I don’t know why Alex’s willingness to help surprised me. He had come all this way to help Vivian. I guessed I expected him to be more like Kennedy, obstinate and closed-mouthed.

“Do you know anything about Dhane’s personal life?” Alex asked.

Jeez. I hadn’t thought about that. “No. Why?”

“Just covering all the bases,” Alex replied.

“I have a question,” Richard said.

We all looked at him.

“If Trinity killed her parents, it’s likely she may have also killed Dhane. And if so, why would Vivian take the fall for a known murderer?”

~*~

Richard’s words ricocheted around in my head all through breakfast and during our cab ride to the convention center. Why, if Vivian knew Trinity had killed once, would she take the rap for her? Why wasn’t Trinity locked up in a psychiatric ward, bouncing off padded walls instead of roaming free to possibly kill again and again? What had really happened in that house in Newton, Kansas, ten years ago?

And why, after all I now knew about Trinity, did I still feel sorry for her?

Juan Carlos, Richard, and I pulled up in front of the convention center and paid the cab fare. Alex had stayed behind with James to work on getting Vivian released. He’d promised to call me with any new information.

We made our way into the lobby, stopping short to read a new sign that had been posted. There was to be a memorial service conducted by Dhane’s partner, MacKenzie Todd, at nine that morning.

“What do you think? Should we go?” Juan Carlos asked.

“I think we should,” I answered. “On TV the murderer sometimes goes to the funeral.”

“But isn’t Trinity our main suspect?” Richard asked.

“She’s bumped up to the top of the list, but I’d also like to get a look at Dhane’s partner. She has a very strong motive for wanting Dhane dead.”

Juan Carlos considered it. “That’s true. Hey, maybe Jerk and Shabby will be there too.”

“Shorty,” I corrected. “Jerk and Shorty.”

“Who are Jerk and Shorty?” Richard asked.

“Come on,” I said. “We’ll fill you in on the way.”

We walked down one of the halls that shot out from the main lobby to the conference room where they were holding the memorial. The room was large and already packed with mourners and gawkers. On the dais, a podium wreathed in flowers had been set up along with a half-dozen chairs. A large photo of Dhane from a Hjálmar product campaign sat off to one side. I frowned. It was all so impersonal, as though it were merely for show.

Juan Carlos managed to snag us some seats. As soon as I sat down, someone slid into the seat next to me and threw an arm over my shoulder.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Kennedy whispered in my ear. “It seems my day wouldn’t be complete without you in it.”

“Jeez, do you always have to sneak up on people like that?”

“Who’s your friend?” Juan Carlos asked, mashing me into Kennedy for a better look at him.

“Detective Kennedy, my friends Juan Carlos and Richard. Guys, meet the cop who arrested Vivian.”

Juan Carlos bunched up his face and moved away. “What’s he doing here? And why are you so chummy with him?”

“Nice meeting you, too,” Kennedy responded.

“It’s not like I invited him to sit next to me,” I told Juan Carlos, trying to shake off Kennedy’s arm. “He just sat down.”

“Uh-huh.” Juan Carlos turned away, angling his body toward Richard to shut us out.

“Great,” I muttered to myself. Juan Carlos’s cold shoulder could take hours to thaw.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it,” Kennedy said, finally withdrawing his arm now that the damage had been done.

“I wasn’t worried about you.”

“I’m surprised someone as close to Dhane as you were isn’t on the stage. Aren’t you going to eulogize your, ah, what is it the kids call it? Hook up? Booty call? Date? No, not date—”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Oh, I see. You were on the down low. Don’t want your detective boyfriend to find out. Got it.”

“He’s not my… Oh, why do I bother? Don’t you have an innocent person to lock up or something?”

“Nah, I already nabbed my quota for the day before breakfast.” His gaze roamed the room, like a search beacon. “So, you come across any new info on our friend Dhane here?”

My bullshit radar beeped. Why was Kennedy being so nice? And why was he pumping me for information on the case? Unless…“You don’t have anything, do you? You’re stuck.”

“It’s just a question. Never mind.”

He started to get up, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Wait. Maybe we can help each other.”

“Help? No. See, you don’t get it. I ask the questions and you answer.” He motioned back and forth between us. “This here is a one-way street.”

“Okay. Sure. If that’s the way you want it…” I put on my best smug smile and batted my lashes at him. “I’m sure you already know about the fire ten years ago anyway.” I examined my fingers. Dang it all if I didn’t spot another hangnail. I was so getting a new manicurist.

I could feel his gaze on me, burning a hole in the side of my head.

“How about I buy you a cup of coffee after this little soiree?”

“I’d love to have a cup of coffee with you, Detective.”

He eyed me uneasily as if trying to gage the level of my sincerity. “I’ll meet you at that coffee-hut thing off the main lobby.”

“It’s a date.”

“You sure are free with your dates.” And with that parting shot, Kennedy got up and walked away.

I should have been annoyed at the implied insult, but I was too pleased with myself for having something over Old King Kennedy. Plus it had the added benefit of helping to clear Vivian’s name. If I had to, I’d let Kennedy insult me any old way he wanted to for that.

“I cannot believe you!” Juan Carlos’s condemnation drew a few looks. “Fraternizing with the foe. Rendezvousing with the rival. Convening with the combatant. Associating with the—”

I held up a hand. “I get it. You’re pissed.”

“Pissed?” His voice rose. “Pissed?”

“Sshhh,” Richard admonished, glancing around to bring our attention to all of the people staring at us.

I hugged Juan Carlos’s arm and whispered, “He doesn’t know about the fire and Dhane’s parents. I’m meeting him afterward to try to negotiate some info out of him.” Juan Carlos didn’t look convinced. “The more attention is off Vivian and on to other people, the better for her, don’t you think?” I tried to summon up any guilt I might have at throwing Trinity Kennedy’s way, but what little I had was a pittance compared to my desire to prove Vivian’s innocence.

“I suppose.”

“Right. So, that’s what I’m doing.”

“Oh my God! You are totally crushing hard for the Irishman.”

“I am not. I can’t stand him. You think I would get the hots for the man who threw my best friend in jail? He’s cute but not cute enough to overcome that kind of betrayal.”

“You’d better not—”

The lights dimmed, cutting off Juan Carlos and signaling the start of the memorial service.

The crowd grew quiet. A petite brunette stepped onstage and then behind the podium.

“On behalf of Hjálmar and Dhane’s family, I want to thank you all for coming. My name is MacKenzie Todd.”

“That little mouse is Big Mac?” Juan Carlos whispered.

I put my finger to my lips and gave him my best kindergarten-teacher glare.

Several other people joined Mac onstage: Trinity, Tenchi, Sora, a woman I didn’t recognize, and what did you know…Jerk and Shorty.

“See those two on the end?” I asked Richard and Juan Carlos. “That’s Jerk and Shorty.”

“I worked with Dhane,” Mac continued, “We met a few years ago while I was employed at another company. When Dhane started Hjálmar, he asked me to join him. Of course I did. No one could resist Dhane.” She said the last bit with a brittle half smile that said more than her words. “He steered Hjálmar through the rough seas of a fledgling business, navigating the waters deftly until he sailed it into the formidable ocean, turning it into the great conglomerate we know today.”

“Gawd, this is awful,” Juan Carlos murmured. “She makes him sound like a real Viking or something.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. It was awful.

Mac’s nautical-themed eulogy went on for another ten minutes. Other than that one hint at her real feelings toward Dhane, there was nothing special about what she said. I noticed Richard’s chin had dropped to his chest and he snored softly. My own head had bobbed like a buoy on a rough sea more than a few times.

Finally, Mac wrapped it up. “Fare-thee-well, Captain. We’ll miss you. And now I’d like to introduce Dhane’s wife to say a few words.”

I popped up in my seat.

Sora stood and approached the podium.

“Oh my God. Oh. My. God.” I couldn’t believe it! Sora was Dhane’s wife?

Juan Carlos grabbed my forearm. “What? What?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Sora looked glorious, her gorgeous red hair falling down her back like a crimson waterfall, shiny and breathtaking. I’d kill for a chance to work with hair like that. I noticed every other hairstylist in the place with the same covetous expression. Rarely do we get our hands on such brilliance. Frizzy, fuzzy frog fur…yes. Five hairs we’re supposed to transform into a mass of splendiferous waves…yes. This shampoo commercial perfection…no.

Juan Carlos let out a pleasured sigh. Richard leaned into him. I found myself smiling despite the somber occasion.

Disney couldn’t have concocted a more perfect princess.

“Thank you all for being here. It’s comforting to know so many people loved Dhane as much as I did.” She sniffed right on cue. “And I loved Dhane so much.” She bowed her head, and that’s when I noticed Ace standing to the left of the stage, staring up at her with such naked adoration he shook with it.

“You all have been so kind. I want you to know that his sister, Trinity, and I appreciate all of the support you’ve given us. It means more to us than you’ll ever know.” Sora turned to the photo of Dhane, her hand clutched over her heart. “We’ll miss you, my love.” Then she walked over and kissed the picture on the lips.

Ewww.

Richard embraced a snuffling Juan Carlos. Some sobbed openly, others sniffed and shifted in their seats, all obviously affected by Sora’s words and actions. I felt eyes on me and turned to find Kennedy blatantly staring at me from the edge of the room as though he were gauging my reaction to Sora’s words. He raised a brow as if to ask, Well?

I rolled my eyes in response and he nodded in agreement. So…Kennedy was mistrustful of the little wifey, too. Interesting.

Trinity remained fixed to her seat, petting her skunk harder and faster as the emotions in the room escalated. She looked lost, completely overset by her circumstances. I felt more sorry for her than ever.

The next to speak was the woman I didn’t recognize. She had that hairstylist look to her, dressed all in black, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail so sleek and tight it acted as a poor man’s facelift.

“Hello. My name is Golda Gonzales.” Her smoker’s rasp was a sharp contrast to Sora’s melodic voice. “I was Dhane’s hairstylist and friend. We worked together for many years. He was a good man. I liked him very much. I will miss him.” She clip-clopped her way back to her seat on sky-high heels.

So much for overblown sentiment.

Juan Carlos leaned into me. “That’s who we need to talk to next.”

He was right. Want to know a person’s deepest, darkest secrets? Ask his hairstylist. We knew more about our clients’ lives than their therapists.

“I’m meeting Kennedy afterward. Can you guys catch up with Golda?”

“Sure thang, darlin’,” Juan Carlos said. “I’m Oprah. I’ll get her to spill her guts like she’s about to be given a car and a trip to Paris.”

The last to speak was Jerk.

“Hello.” He yanked at his collar. “I’m Hank Door, the new CEO of Hjálmar. Dhane recruited me right out of college. I started as an account executive and worked my way up the corporate ladder.” The rest of Hank a.k.a. Jerk’s speech was all about him and his incredible rise within the company. He earned his nickname with every word.

The memorial closed with a video montage of Hjálmar marketing-campaign photographs featuring Dhane in all of his splendid vivaciousness. It was hard to reconcile the images on the screen above the stage with the visions that had haunted my dreams, both waking and sleeping. He was so young, so attractive, so…gone. The finality of his death hit me harder than I imagined it would.

The lights came up.

“He was so beautiful,” Juan Carlos blubbered. “Cut short in his prime. It’s a crime against nature.” He dabbed at his eyes. “It’s true, only the good die young. Oh, why’d he have to die?” Juan Carlos threw himself at Richard, who caught him deftly, cradling him.

“We’ll catch up with you later,” Richard said over Juan Carlos’s head.

For some, like Juan Carlos, the memorial made them wonder why. Why did bad things happen to good people? Why did only the good die young? To me, the memorial was a battle call. Who would do such a thing? What did they want that Dhane stood in the way of? What was worth killing for? And in the face of such an injustice, who would stand for Dhane? Who was willing to do more than just shake their head at the tragedy?

With the final onscreen image of Dhane burned into my memory and the anger at the unfairness of it all coursing through me, I made a vow right there, right then. If it was the last thing I would ever do, I would find out who killed Dhane. Not to satisfy my own curiosity, not even to clear Vivian’s name, but to right a wrong and bring Dhane’s killer to justice.