Deadly in High Heels (6 page)

"There he is!" Marco stage-whispered to me.

"Who?" I asked, scanning the beach. A smattering of tourists filled it, both patrons of the resort and locals from the looks of them.

"There!" Marco pointed an arm straight ahead to where a large, rotund man lay sunning himself on a beach chair, his ample shoulders pinking under the sun as they peeked out of a white tank top straining against his beach-ball-sized belly. "Isn't that Dempsey?"

I had to admit, I'd only caught a glimpse of him before. I honestly couldn't be sure.

However it seemed Dana could. "That is definitely Dempsey." She frowned. "How can he be sitting out here enjoying the beach when his client was just killed?" she asked.

I shrugged. Though I supposed there was no law against mourning in the sunshine.

"Let's go interrogate him about the director position," Marco said.

My turn to grab his arm. "Whoa there Fablock. You almost interrogated me right out of a job at breakfast. I say we let the poor man enjoy his day in peace."

Marco looked at me as if I'd grown two heads. "You're joking, right? What if he knows something about who killed Jennifer?"

"Then he would've told the police."

Again with the two-headed look.

"Okay, fine," I gave up, throwing my hands in the air. "We can go offer our condolences."

"And interrogate him!" Marco said.

"And
talk
to him," I amended.

"You're no fun," Marco mumbled.

Dana wisely kept quiet during the exchange, sipping at her smoothie as the three of us made our way over to Dempsey.

It wasn't until we were blocking his sun that he opened his eyes and squinted in our direction.

"May I help you?" he asked. Up close I could see that Dempsey's hair was a dyed black and he almost looked as though he were wearing a layer of makeup over his face. (A face which held a pair of eyes that were brown, I noted, not emerald green.)

"I'm so sorry to bother you," I started. "But I wanted to offer my condolences. Maddie Springer." I stuck my hand out toward him. "I'm doing the footwear for the pageant."

"Oh. Right." Dempsey struggled to a sitting position while he reached one sweaty hand out to shake mine. "Right, I recognize you. And you're Dana, right? One of the judges?"

She nodded, sipping at her smoothie. "I'm so very sorry about your client. She was a very talented competitor."

Dempsey's jaw clacked shut, though I didn't know him well enough to say whether it was due to grief, guilt, or coveting that smoothie as he sweated in the sunshine.

"Thank you. It's true, Jennifer was very talented."

"Do the police have any leads on what happened to her?" I asked.

He shook his head, his jowls wavering with aftershocks. "None that they're sharing with me. Though, who am I? Just the person she spent twenty-four seven with for weeks leading up to every competition," he said, heavy on the sarcasm.

I jumped on the opening. "It sounds like you probably knew Jennifer as well as anyone."

"I should say so."

"I don't suppose you know if she'd made any enemies? Why anyone would've wanted to hurt her?" I fished.

I half expected him to deny it and talk about how
perfect
Jennifer had been like everyone else, but instead he shrugged. "Well clearly somebody wanted to hurt her, didn't they?"

"There's a rumor running around that you might be the next director of the Miss Hawaiian Paradise competition," Marco jumped in.

Dempsey grinned, showing off what a great set of veneers could do. "It's a lovely rumor."

"How long were you Jennifer's coach?" I asked.

His smile immediately faded, his expressions sagging in a way that added ten years to his age. "Two years," he said. "Ever since she started going for the national titles."

"How long had she been doing pageants?"

"Oh, honey, she'd been in pageants her entire life. Started off as one of those tiny-tot things before she moved on to bigger and bigger titles. They were paying her way through nursing school."

"I hadn't realized she was going to school." I guess I sort of pictured all of these girls as professional pageant women.

Dempsey nodded. "She had big dreams." The catch in his voice was unmistakable. If Dempsey was faking grief, he was doing a darn good job of it. He cleared his throat. "Most of the girls are in school, though they sometimes take a semester off here and there for a really big pageant like this one. It's worth it to most of them. Pageants are for the young. They all know that at some point they will be aging out of the competitions where there's any real money to be had."

"But Jennifer was a long way from that, wasn't she?" Marco jumped in.

Dempsey paused. "She was twenty. She had a couple of good years left."

"Wow, I didn't realized 'aging out' happened so young," I mused.

Dempsey nodded. "Like I said, it's a young woman's game. The end comes quickly."

I bit my lip, mental wheels turning. "Were any of the other contestants closing in on that end?"

Dempsey shrugged. "Sure. I can think of a couple who have been circling the drain, so to speak, for at least a couple of years."

I cringed at his metaphor. "Who?"

"Well," Dempsey hedged. "Whitney Lexington for one."

"Miss Delaware."

He nodded, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "She's been competing in the eighteen-to-twenty-five category for at least eight years now."

I raised an eyebrow, doing the math. "That would make her twenty-six. I thought the cut off for this pageant was twenty-five?"

"That's what I thought too," Dempsey said with a knowing nod.

Dana did a strangled little gasp beside me. "But don't pageant officials check to make sure the contestants fall within the age range?" she asked

Dempsey shrugged. "Sure, but there's always a way around that. Fake a birth certificate, bribe the judge…" He trailed off.

Dana gasped again, and I caught Marco elbowing her out of the corner of my eye

"Is that what Whitney did?" I asked.

Dempsey put his hands up in a surrender motion. "I'm not pointing any fingers at anyone. I'm just saying that some of these older girls are desperate to hit that big title while they still can.
Desperate
."

I pursed my lips together. If I didn't know better, I'd say that Dempsey was pretty pointedly
not
pointing any fingers. I wondered if it was because he truly thought Whitney had something to do with Jennifer's death, or if he was trying to deflect attention from someone else.

"I have to ask…you don't know if Jennifer was seeing anyone, do you?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Her boyfriend just came in from Montana."

I sucked in my cheeks, trying to find a way to put this delicately. "I saw him arrive yesterday. I was wondering if maybe Jennifer was close with anyone else? Possibly associated with the pageant…?" I left the question hanging there like last season's mullet-cut dress on a clearance rack.

Dempsey's eyebrows drew together as he tried to read between my lines. "Like who?" he finally asked.

"Well…" I said drawing out the word. Quite frankly Dempsey himself was in an excellent position to be Mystery Boyfriend. Who spent more time with a contestant than her coach? However I had a hard time putting him in the role of leading man. I knew young girls often had a thing for older men, but Dempsey was hardly the distinguished rolling-in-dough type. In fact if I had to categorize him, I would say he was the midsection-looks-like-dough type. Besides, Dempsey's eyes were brown.

"What about Jeffries?" Marco spat out. "We know he has a bit of a reputation with the ladies."

But Dempsey shook his head violently from side to side. "No, you've got it all wrong. Jennifer played by the rules. There is no way she would've been seeing a judge. Fraternization between contestants and judges is strictly prohibited."

Dana shot me an I-told-you-look.

I bit my lip, remembering the scene I'd witnessed last night with Miss California at Jeffries table. While I wouldn't exactly call their interaction inappropriate, it did border on the fraternizing.

"We have a witness who says she saw Jennifer sneaking out the night she was murdered," I told him, figuring it couldn't hurt to come clean.

Dempsey paused, his eyes narrowing. "Who said they saw this?"

"We're not at liberty to say," Marco jumped in, sounding like he'd just watched an entire season of
The Good Wife
.

"Well, whoever it is must be mistaken. Like I said, winning meant everything to Jennifer. She knew that violating curfew was against the rules. And nothing would've made Jennifer jeopardize her title." He shut his mouth with a click, signaling that he'd said his last word on the topic.

"Did Jennifer seem distressed about anything to you?" I asked, feeling distinctly like we were losing him. "Anything in particular on her mind?"

But Dempsey shook his head. "I'm sorry. Jennifer was as happy as could be at this pageant. Everything was going her way. In fact, I believe she was even in the running for Miss Congeniality."

I opened my mouth to follow up on that, however I never got the chance as Dana's phone started singing from her purse.

"Sorry," she said pulling it out and sliding her finger along the smart screen. She glanced at the readout. "It's a text from Laforge."

Before she could say more I heard a vibration going off in Dempsey's pocket as well. He looked at the readout and said, "He's calling an all hands meeting in the auditorium."

We all silently looked at each other, knowing what this meant. The final verdict on whether or not there would be a Miss Hawaiian Paradise Pageant this year.

Marco and I followed Dana down the set of escalators to the lower level where the auditorium was located. Clearly Laforge had sent out a widespread text, as contestants and members of the pageant crew alike filed down the escalators beside us. Everyone wore the same expression of tightly contained nerves. While I was pretty sure the majority of us were hoping Laforge would say the pageant would continue as planned, none of us were exactly sure that we
should
want the pageant to continue as planned. Did that make us insensitive to the dead girl?

The house lights were up in the auditorium, giving it an overly cheery feel for the jittery mumbles of the crowd. Dana walked to the front row, where she took a spot behind a small table that was clearly reserved for judges, carefully sequestered away from contestants. Marco and I filled in two seats near the front on the aisle. I could see Laforge shuffling papers just to the side of the stage. Beside him stood Detective Whatshisname. His head tilted toward Laforge as he mumbled something into his ear, but I noticed his eyes were on the crowd. I wondered if he was looking for anything in particular. Or anyone. Had the detective uncovered some evidence pointing to someone in the auditorium as Jennifer's killer? I couldn't help my eyes wandering over the assembled crowd as the questions pinged back and forth in my brain.

Everyone I had talked to so far had described Jennifer as perfection. She followed the rules, was kind to everyone, and I had a feeling that if she started singing, little Disney characters might have even flocked to her in droves. So why had she taken the risk to sneak out on the night of her death? And who could have hated the possible Miss Congeniality enough to want her dead?

"May I have everyone's attention, please?"

My eyes jumped up to the stage where Laforge was standing, a wireless microphone in his hand. "I apologize for calling you all here on such short notice," he started. His voice was missing that commanding tone I'd heard from him at rehearsals. "However with our live telecast only five days away, time is of the essence."

A wave of murmurs washed through the auditorium at this statement, questioning eyes turning to one another.

"Yes," Laforge said into his microphone, answering the silent question. "The pageant will continue as scheduled." He paused, waiting for another round of murmurs to pass before demanding our attention again. "After discussions with the local authorities—" Laforge nodded to Detective Whatshisname, standing just offstage. "—and sponsors of our pageant at the Hawaiian Paradise Corporation, we have decided it is safe and appropriate to continue forward and dedicate this pageant to the memory of Jennifer Oliver, our Miss Montana." He paused again, and when he spoke his voice was lower, switching from announcer mode to something much more human and filled with emotion. "We feel it is what Jennifer would have wanted."

Another soft murmur went through the crowd.

Laforge took a deep breath and cleared his throat, pulling himself back into presenter mode. Whether the pause for emotion had been intentionally theatric or genuine, it was hard to tell. "I know that this terrible tragedy has taken a toll on all of us. However we will continue rehearsals today. New schedules are posted backstage. We'll break now for a brief recess then meet back here for the dress rehearsal of our opening number in twenty minutes. Thank you." Laforge nodded toward the audience before his thick heels click-clacked offstage to join the homicide detective again.

*

After checking the newly posted schedules, I saw that my fitting wasn't until later that afternoon, so Marco and I parted ways with Dana outside the auditorium. She said she wanted to call Ricky with the update on the pageant then grab a cup of coffee to keep her mind sharp as she jumped back into the judging duties. (Of course, in Dana's world a cup of "coffee" meant a nonfat, decaf, soy latte with stevia. Shudder.)

It looked as though Marco and I were on our own for a few hours. Normally we might have spent it lounging by the pool, but he already knew my particular thoughts on that vacation activity. Instead, we decided to do a little bit of souvenir shopping in the village. The area of Hawaii we were staying in consisted of a main village area where locals and tourists alike hung out at various bars, restaurants, and boutiques. There were also open-air shopping malls that catered specifically to tourists up and down the main highway. Our hotel was conveniently located in the center, well within walking distance of it all.

Marco and I paused only long enough to go to our respective rooms and change into our very best tourist garb. I put on a purple and turquoise wrap skirt in a large floral print that practically screamed tropical. I paired it with some strappy slingbacks in a summery white and a matching white tank blouse. The outfit was comfortable, carefree, and cool enough to keep me from having unsightly sweat stains in the humidity. Not, I realized, a concern for Marco as I met up with him outside his hotel room ten minutes later. Marco had gone with a pair of tight denim shorts flirting with the top of his kneecap (sporting perfectly waxed legs beneath that I was slightly jealous of, by the way), a skintight white leather top, and a pair of hot pink espadrilles. He had slung a pink crossbody bag over one shoulder to complete the outfit, and topped it all off with a pair of oversized purple sunglasses. I had to admit he looked beyond fabulous. He also looked like he'd be sweating like a pig at a luau in ten minutes flat.

"Honey, don't you think that outfit is a little hot?" I asked.

"That's what I was counting on, dahling," Marco said, lowering his sunglasses and giving me a wink.

I rolled my eyes. "I meant the temperature. It's like eighty degrees plus humidity outside."

Marco waved me off with a tanned hand. "No worries. I've got that covered." He reached into his pink bag and pulled out a personal-sized, battery-powered fan, flipping it on and holding it in front of his face.

"See? I can look like I'm an '80s video vixen
and
stay cool in the humidity."

I couldn't help a giggle. Marco really did think of everything where fashion was concerned.

Fifteen minutes later we were walking along the main boulevard, happily filling our shopping bags with goodies to take home. I'd found an adorable little puka shell elastic bracelet for Livvie and a sailboat made out of abalone shells for Max. I was having a little bit harder time finding something for my husband. Big bad homicide detectives usually didn't enjoy cute little clamshells with googly eyes glued onto them. Marco on the other hand was going for full-on island fashion, pulling Hawaiian shirts in a variety of different styles. Though instead of the usual loose casual look he was getting them all in a women's size extra small. I prayed for their teeny tiny buttons.

We were just coming out of the Waikiki Wonders gift shop and searching for something akin to a Starbucks, when I spotted a familiar face in the crowd just across the courtyard. He was sitting by a fountain where small children were throwing coins in exchange for wishes. Jennifer's boyfriend. Or at least the public boyfriend, Xander Newport, the one who had flown in from Montana the day before. Apparently he
had
found the Starbucks as he had a paper coffee cup in his hand. He leaned against the back of a park bench, staring off into space. Part of me felt incredibly sorry for the guy. Not only had his girlfriend been cheating on him, a condition to which he had apparently been oblivious, but now she was also deceased.

Of course there was always the possibility he
hadn't
been oblivious. It's just possible that he knew Jennifer was cheating on him. Maybe he had traveled to Hawaii not to mourn the death of his beloved girlfriend but to cause it. I know, I had an imaginative streak. What can I say? Life with a homicide detective had colored my view of the world.

"Who is that?" Marco asked, gesturing to the guy.

"Who?"

"The guy you were staring at."

Was I staring? Oops.

I quickly filled him in.

"Ooo…let's go talk to him," Marco said, forging ahead before I could stop him. While I agreed it would be interesting to hear his take on his girlfriend's death, I wasn't quite sure how to tactfully approach a grieving boyfriend

Apparently Marco didn't have any such compunction. "Xander Newport, right?" he asked

The guy snapped out of his vacant stare, his eyes going straight to Marco and widening slightly. In his defense anyone's eyes would widen slightly if Marco was approaching them.

"Yes?" he asked, searching Marco for any sign of recognition.

Marco shot a hand out toward him. "My name's Marco. I'm with the pageant."

Which was a slight stretch. However he was
with
the pageant even if he had nothing to do with it.

"Oh, right. Of course," Xander said, absently shaking Marco's hand. "I should have guessed."

While he mumbled the last part, it didn't escape Marco's radar. Fortunately, he took it as a compliment. "It's the shoes, right? I thought they screamed pageant diva."

Xander gave him a wan smile.

"We wanted to offer our condolences," I jumped in.

Xander's eyes shot to me. "And you are?"

"Maddie Springer." I offered my hand as well. "Nice to meet you."

Xander shook my hand but didn't return the greeting. He had the dark, brooding thing down to a tee. However, I had to concede that it looked good on him. While I had no idea who Jennifer's secret lover had been, part of me was surprised that she would take a second lover at all. Xander was what you would call classically handsome. Dark blond hair curled in waves off his head, hanging just a little long in the back, enough to be fashionable but not so much as to look like he was lacking in the grooming department. He had the sort of big brown eyes and wide smile that reminded me of a Ryan Seacrest. Tanned skin, white teeth, outfit right out of a J.Crew catalog. Everything about him looked perfectly put together but somehow appropriately casual at the same time. All in all, he looked like the absolute perfect match to a beauty queen.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said.

His brown eyes immediately went down to his coffee cup which he twirled in his hands, fidgeting. "Thank you I—I can scarcely believe she's gone."

"Terrible to be visiting paradise under such circumstances," Marco said clucking his tongue. "When did you say you got in?"

"I didn't." His eyes narrowed.

"Uh, what he means is I'm sure you must still be in shock over the whole thing." I shot Marco a pointed look.

Marco nodded. "Right. Shock. So sudden."

Xander's eyes went back to his cup. "Very sudden."

"I can't imagine who could have hurt Jennifer. Everyone seemed to like her," I said.

"Of course they did," Xander shot back defensively.

"When was the last time you talked to her?" Marco cut in.

Xander took a deep breath, as if drawing the memory out. "Night before she died."

"And how did she seem?"

"What do you mean?" His sandy brows drew together.

"Did she seem agitated? Upset? Scared?" Marco probed.

Xander started to shake his head then paused and shrugged his shoulders instead. "I don't know. She seemed the way she always did. She talked about the pageant, the girls. That was it."

"Did she mention any of the girls in particular?" I asked. If one of the other pageant contestants
had
been gunning for her, maybe Jennifer had had an inkling of who.

Xander shook his head, looking down into his coffee cup again as if trying to recall. "I don't know. I wasn't paying close attention to be honest. Maybe Britney?"

"Whitney?" I asked, immediately thinking of Miss Delaware.

He nodded. "That sounds right."

"What did she say about Whitney?"

Xander shook his head again. "I don't know. Like I said, I wasn't really paying close attention. She talked about how hard they were working on the routines, how excited she was to be here."

This wasn't exactly front-page news. Nor was it scandalous. I was dying to ask if he knew that his girlfriend had been seeing someone else, but I knew that even if he did know, he was unlikely to tell me, a.k.a. a stranger. And if he didn't know, I certainly wasn't going to be the one to break the news to this poor grieving GQ.

"Did she know any of the girls from previous pageants?" Marco asked. "Did she have a history with any of them?"

Oh, good question. I leaned in to hear the answer.

"Sure," Xander said. "I mean, all these girls kind of travel on the same circuits, you know? There are only so many national level pageants. Once they make it to this level, they're seeing a lot of the same faces over and over."

"Like Whitney?" I pressed

But Xander shrugged again. "Look, I'm sorry. But I didn't really know her pageant friends. When she was at home she spent time with me. When she was competing, she spent time with her pageant friends. The two worlds didn't really collide."

Until now. Clearly someone from her pageant world had spilled over into her personal life. And I was dying to know who that was.