“I can’t believe this happened,” Andrea whispered. “It’s just … well, it’s just freaky.”
We were in a small den on the west side of the house, a comfortable room with plush furniture, a huge flat-screen, and windows that allowed in lots of sunlight and a view of the koi pond. Veronica’s three aunts were huddled together on the sofa looking like trees in a petrified forest, staring straight ahead at nothing. Brandie was seated in a nearby chair fiddling with her cell phone. Servants had brought trays of sandwiches and drinks but nobody had touched anything.
The police and forensic techs were outside going about their business. We’d been asked to wait in here until we could give our statements. Patrick had arrived and was somewhere in the house, presumably with his mother; Andrea had mentioned that the rest of the family was out of the country. I had no idea where Erika was.
“Veronica must have been out on that balcony hundreds of times,” Andrea said in a low voice. “What could have caused her to fall?”
I’d asked the workmen on the ground that same question, after I’d gotten over my initial shock. They’d all shaken their heads and told me they’d seen Veronica falling, but hadn’t witnessed her actually going over the railing.
“Nobody seems to know. Maybe the police will find a witness,” I whispered back. “Were there any surveillance cameras on the property?”
Andrea shook her head. “Only by the front door. Veronica didn’t like the idea of security cameras capturing their private lives.”
Renée rose from the sofa, unzipped the jacket of her track suit and tossed it on a chair where everyone had dumped their belongings. She picked up one of the fanny packs I’d seen on all the gals when they’d arrived, and held it by the strap. It was orange, with a bedazzled turkey appliqué on the front.
“This whole trip has turned into nothing but a waste of time,” she grumbled.
“How can you even think of something like that at a time like this?” Melanie demanded.
Brandie’s gaze darted between her mother and her aunt.
“I can think whatever I want. And it’s a perfectly valid comment,” Renée said, shaking the fanny pack at her. “What are we supposed to do out here now? Look what Veronica’s gone and done to us again.”
Melanie shot to her feet. “It was an accident! A horrible accident!”
“I know it was an accident!” Renée said. “I didn’t say it wasn’t!”
“You’d better watch your mouth,” Melanie told her.
“Stop it! Both of you!” Cassie rose and stepped between them. “This isn’t the time or the place. Now, cut it out.”
Obviously, these three aunts of Veronica’s were sisters, and these were the roles they’d played for decades.
Renée and Melanie eyed each other for a few seconds, then Renée headed for the door.
“I need a smoke,” she said.
“The police said we’re not supposed to leave the room,” Cassie called.
Renée ignored her and left, slamming the door behind her.
Melanie uttered a disgusted grunt and sat down, as did Cassie. Brandie folded her legs under her and burrowed deeper into the chair, and started punching buttons on her cell phone again.
Andrea and I exchanged an uncomfortable look, then she whispered, “I need to make a call.”
“Me, too,” I said.
I didn’t, but I wanted out of that room. I figured Andrea felt the same.
Andrea held up her cell phone to the guests and said, “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
I followed her out of the room without an explanation.
The house was silent as we walked down the hall to the entryway. Work had ceased, so there was no more equipment running. I figured all the construction guys had been rounded up and were being questioned. The lab techs were on the east side of the house, well out of view and earshot, thankfully.
“This whole thing is so sad,” Andrea said, shaking her head. “I don’t know how Patrick will ever get over losing her.”
I’d seen the two of them together several times during the planning of their event and couldn’t disagree.
“They seemed happy together,” I said.
“It was love at first sight,” Andrea said with a dreamy smile that made me think Veronica had shared the story with her more than once. “Patrick had gone back east to check on his family’s holdings and he met Veronica selling candy at a farmer’s market. She said they both knew instantly that they were meant to be together forever. A fairytale match—the big city millionaire and the small town girl.”
I smiled at the image that bloomed in my head, and said, “So that’s how they started Pammy Candy?”
“Veronica was making and selling the candy at local swap meets, fairs, that sort of thing. Nothing big, just something for a little extra income,” Andrea said. “Patrick saw the potential and wanted to take it national. Veronica always said their love grew along with the candy business. They eloped, sort of, and got married by candlelight in the small, rustic church Veronica had attended all her life. Just the two of them. Very romantic.”
The image of my mom flashed in my head—and there was nothing romantic about it. If I, or my sister or brother, eloped robbing her of the opportunity to plan and attend our wedding, she would have a meltdown on a biblical scale.
“Patrick wanted to move the business to L.A. because he had more contacts here,” Andrea said.
“Pammy Candy is everywhere now,” I said. “It was a good decision.”
Andrea’s smile faded. “I’m not so sure. Veronica acted like everything was great, but it wasn’t an easy adjustment for her. That’s why Patrick hired me to help her.”
Julia zinged into my head. I wondered how much she’d tried to smooth Veronica’s transition.
Andrea glanced down the hallway. “I’d better get back in there. Coming?”
With so much gloom and doom in the room, I didn’t really want to go in there again—which was bad of me, I know—but since I couldn’t leave until the police had taken my statement and no way did I want to wander the grounds or the house and possibly run into Patrick or the lab guys, I followed Andrea back down the hallway.
Maybe I could get the staff to send in something chocolate—or a few beers.
Renée had returned from her smoke break when Andrea and I walked inside. Brandie was still pecking on her phone while Melanie and Cassie sat staring at nothing. Nobody spoke.
Jeez, I wish those police would hurry up so I could get out of here.
I mean that in the nicest way, of course.
No way could I take this much longer. I’d been here for hours and I had tons of work to do back at the office—okay, I didn’t have that much to do but that’s not the point.
Just as I was about to tell Andrea that I felt I was coming down with a touch of the stomach flu—my all-time favorite excuse to get out of most anything—the door opened. I expected to see detectives walk in but—oh my God, it was Jack Bishop.
Jack was a totally hot private detective. He was a little older than me, tall with dark hair and gorgeous eyes. We’d met a year or so ago when I’d been in the accounts payable department of a law firm at which Jack did consulting work—long story. We were kind-of-sort-of friends and colleagues because we’d helped each other out with cases from time to time.
There was a crazy heat between us that neither of us had acted on because, up until recently, I’d had an official boyfriend, Ty Cameron. Now, Jack and I were—well, I don’t know what the heck we were.
Jack’s entry into the room stirred the aunts. They turned, did a double-take, and stared. Renée eased her shoulders back and sat up straighter on the sofa. Brandie yanked the clip from her ponytail and let her hair fall around her shoulders. Even Andrea stared—not that I blamed them, of course.
Jack nodded to everyone in the room, and sidled up next to me.
“I figured you’d be in here,” he said in a low voice.
Thank God he didn’t use his Barry White voice. I’m totally helpless against his Barry White voice.
“How did you know I was even in the house?” I asked.
Jack gave me his don’t-question-the-master grin—which was way hot—then I realized that he’d recognized my Honda parked out front.
Good to know my deductive reasoning skills weren’t completely destroyed in the presence of such a hot guy.
Jack cupped my elbow and walked me to the corner of the room.
“What are you doing here?” I asked quietly.
“Security,” Jack said. “Pike Warner called me in.”
Pike Warner was the law firm where I’d met Jack—and where I’d probably still be working if it hadn’t been for that whole administrative-leave- investigation-pending thing—which represented the wealthiest, most prestigious clients in Los Angeles. I figured Julia had called them immediately upon learning of Veronica’s death.
Families like the Spencer-Tafts didn’t sign up for a gym membership without their attorneys at their elbow.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
Jack angled his body so his back was to everyone else in the room—I’m sure they were all staring, and who could blame them—and leaned down.
“The cops are investigating the scene,” he said, “very thoroughly.”
I figured they would. No way would they want to be responsible for a foul-up involving the death of a member of such a prominent family.
Then something else hit me.
“It was an accident, wasn’t it?” I asked.
Jack shrugged. “We’ll see.”
A really ugly picture started to form in my head, but I pushed it out.
“Let me know if you hear anything,” I said.
He nodded but didn’t ask me to do the same—he already knew I would.
Maybe my relationship with Jack had lost some of its mystery.
Jack left the room, taking most of the heat with him, and I could see that everyone was getting restless and Renée was winding up for another smoke break. I was feeling antsy myself and was ready to break out my touch-of-the-stomach-flu excuse when the door opened and Julia walked in.
The vibe in the room amped up as everyone rose and crowded around her, expecting to, at long last, hear some definitive news. The aunts looked slightly more haggard than when they’d arrived, worn down by the sudden and unexpected loss of a loved one.
Julia appeared composed and in control, head up, shoulders back, facing the inevitable with the same we’ll-go-on-no-matter-what spirit that the many generations of ancestors before her must have displayed.
She pressed her palms together and drew a breath.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss,” she said, looking at each of Veronica’s relatives in turn. “I know this is a blow none of you expected. It’s a tragedy, one that won’t soon be forgotten or easily overcome.”
The aunts and Brandie just stared at her.
I wondered if she had a public relations firm on retainer who’d whipped up that little speech for her.
“As you can imagine, Patrick is devastated,” Julia went on. “He’s in seclusion. But he sends his heartfelt condolences to each of you.”
They kept staring.
“The police officers have assured me that you will be given an opportunity to make your statements within the next few minutes. Immediately afterwards, you will be taken to the airport for your return flight home,” Julia said.
The aunts gasped.
“Andrea,” Julia said. “Call the car service and book their airline reservations.”
“Wait,” Melanie said.
“Yeah, hold on a second,” Renée insisted.
“What about the funeral?” Cassie asked.
“Services and internment will be held at the church in her home town,” Julia said.
“We can’t just leave,” Renée said. “It’s not right.”
“It’s disrespectful,” Cassie said.
“We haven’t even talked to Patrick yet,” Melanie said.
“Patrick is with his family,” Julia said.
“We’re his family, too,” Melanie said.
Julia drew in a breath, as if to steady herself, and said, “There is no reason for you to stay. Everything is being handled.”
“Well, I’m not leaving,” Renée told her.
The others nodded in agreement.
“There are no appropriate accommodations for you,” Julia explained.
“We’ll stay here,” Melanie said. “There’s plenty of room.”
Julia drilled the aunts with a don’t-you-realize-I’m-better-than-you glare.
“One does not expect staff to remain on the premises following an event of this nature,” she said in an if-you-had-any-class-you’d-know-that voice.
“We don’t need a staff,” Cassie said. “We can take care of ourselves.”
“We sure can,” Renée agreed.
I thought Julia might actually morph into a block of ice at any second.
“I’ll help out,” Andrea offered.
Julia turned her how-dare-you glare Andrea’s way, so what could I do but say, “And so will I.”
“Good,” Melanie said. “It’s all settled.”
Julia’s pinched lips indicated that the matter was far from settled, yet good breeding forbade her from pressing the issue.
“Very well,” she said and left.
No way was I staying in that room any longer. If the cops wanted to talk to me, they’d just have to hunt me down.
I left and walked down the hallway heading for the front door—and spotted Julia.
Crap.
She walked over, her I-could-pass-for-a-wax-figure composure once again firmly in place.
“I realize my comments may have sounded cold,” she said, sounding, of course, incredibly cold, “but I hope you could see that I was attempting to soften the blow.”
I had no idea what she was talking about.
“What blow?” I asked.
“The heartache they will endure when the police reveal that Veronica killed herself,” she said.
Oh my God, where had that come from?
“She was an impetuous girl, unfortunately,” Julia said. “She didn’t think things through. Things such as leaving her home and her family, marrying my Patrick, attempting to assist in the running of a major business venture. She was in over her head here. She was glad her relatives were coming because she intended to go back home with them.”
Okay, I was thoroughly shocked.
“But she and Patrick seemed like they were so much in love,” I said.
Julia dismissed my words with a graceful flick of her wrist.
“She confided in me,” Julia said.
Wow, had I misjudged Veronica’s relationship with her mother-in-law, or what?
“But now her aunts and cousin will be here to personally witness the horrifying truth when it’s revealed,” Julia said, and left the thanks-to-you-and-Andrea unspoken yet heavily implied.
“I can’t imagine Veronica taking her own life,” I said.
“How could it be anything else?” Julia said. “Even someone so utterly lacking in poise and grace as Veronica wasn’t clumsy enough to fall off of a balcony.”