Death by Pumpkin Spice (22 page)

But if that was the case, why did I feel so crappy?

With a sigh, I trudged my way back to the ballroom to let the police do their job.

23

“I should be helping him look for him.”

“No, Krissy, you shouldn't.”

I was standing with my friends, who were doing their best to console me. Lance and Jules were giving me sympathetic looks, as if they completely understood how I felt, though they weren't willing to do or say anything to goad me into action. Mason and Will were mostly staying out of it, contributing a few words here and there. It was Vicki who was steadfastly refusing to let me give in. She knew how much trouble I could get in, especially if I found the killer on my own.

“You've done enough already,” she said at my pout. “You've gotten yourself hurt by chasing after the bad guy. I don't think you should ever put yourself in that position again. It's hard on all of us, worrying about you.”

I huffed and glanced toward where Buchannan was standing near the front door, giving anyone who came close to him the stink eye. Igor was off covering some other exit. I was worried someone was going to get hurt, someone who had no experience dealing with a murderer.
I
should be the one watching a door or a window, not one of the help, and especially not the girls wearing those old waitress outfits.

“But if two of us are looking for him, we can cover more ground,” I said. “This can be over so much faster and everyone can relax.”

“You said it yourself not but ten minutes ago, he might already be gone,” Will said. “Don't stress yourself out over this. It isn't healthy.” He put an arm around my shoulder and squeezed.

I looked down at his cane. He'd given it to me when I wouldn't stop wringing my hands. Now, my fingers were clenched tightly around the wood, so hard it was a wonder it didn't snap.

“Officer Dalton can handle it,” Lance said. “And the other officer is watching the doors. We're safe in here. Together.”

I knew they were right, but I was having a hard time sitting still and waiting. Margaret Yarborough was across the room, surrounded by people with hands over their mouths, as if in shock as they listened to her relay what had happened. Looking at her only made me angrier. She shouldn't have lied to us. If she'd come out and told the truth right away, we might already have Philip in custody.

“Krissy . . .”

I looked back to find Mason frowning at me.

“Let it go.”

I wanted to scream, wanted to run out of the room and search every last corner of the house, but what good would it do? I didn't know where Paul was, where he had been. I'd be more likely to get myself killed than find the killer. Heck, finding Philip Carlisle was probably exactly
how
I'd get myself killed.

Staying here was safer. Smarter. The right thing to do.

“I'll be back,” I said.

“Krissy, no.” Vicki shook her head. “You are
not
going to go running around, getting yourself into trouble.”

“I won't leave the room.”
Yet
, I silently added. “There's someone I want to talk to. It'll keep my mind off what I'm
not
doing.”

I'd noticed our resident Clark Gable, Terry Blandino, standing over by the refreshments. The food had stopped coming, so there wasn't much left for him to pick through, but he was trying.

“You sure, sweetie?” Jules asked. “You can always hang out with us.” The twinkle in his eye told me he knew exactly what I was planning.

“I'm sure. I'll be right over there.” I nodded toward the table.

Vicki crossed her arms over her chest but couldn't keep the crooked smile off her face. Like Jules, and apparently everyone in the room, she knew what I was doing. She might warn me off putting myself in dangerous positions, but she also knew it was in my nature to snoop. They'd have to tie me down to keep me away.

I took a few steps away from Will. He frowned and then followed me over. “Krissy . . .”

“I'll be okay,” I said. “And I promise I'll be good.”

He looked worried, but smiled. “Please, be careful.”

“I will.”

“And don't take too long, okay?”

“I won't.” On a sudden impulse, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. Then I hurried away, pointedly not looking at the faces around me, especially Will's. I didn't know if he'd be smiling or looking more worried than ever. I had a feeling it might be a little of both.

Terry was alone at the snack table, still picking through what little there was left. He had a plate in hand. A solitary grape rolled around on it, seemingly forgotten. He didn't notice me until I was standing right next to him, and even then, he didn't look my way until I cleared my throat.

“Did you need something?” There was no hostility in his voice, just a sad resignation. I wasn't sure if it was directed at me, or something else—his daughter perhaps.

“Hi, Terry,” I said, putting on my best “We're buddies!” smile. “How are you doing?”

His brow furrowed. “Fine,” he said, wary now. “Why?”

“You've heard about Philip Carlisle, right?” I asked, knowing he had. The entire ballroom was buzzing about it. “He's on the run, but should be in custody soon.”

Terry's jaw clenched before he answered. “I'm not surprised he's involved.”

“How well did you know him? I saw you two fighting a few times now. I'm guessing you didn't get along.”

Terry slammed down his plate violently enough, the grape bounced onto the floor. “That is none of your business.”

His tone was aggressive, yet I wasn't going to give in. I was positive Terry knew more than he was letting on. “I'm pretty sure he killed Jessica Fairweather, and might have been planning to do the same to Margaret Yarborough. Is that why you were arguing?”

“Philip and I had a disagreement.”

“Over?”

“That is none of your business,” he repeated, more forcefully this time.

Eyes were starting to turn our way, but I pressed on. “What about Elaine Harmon?”

Terry went still. “What about her?” His eyes flickered over my shoulder. I glanced back to see the girl in question standing against the wall, watching us while pretending she wasn't.

“She's your daughter,” I said, turning back to him.

He didn't speak for a long moment. He stared at me hard enough, it felt like he was looking straight through me. He was breathing heavily, but in a controlled manner, telling me he was trying to rein in his temper. From what little I'd seen of him, I was guessing he had to do that a lot.

“What does she have to do with anything?”

“I don't know,” I said. “But I find it interesting that she was wearing the same costume as Jessica Fairweather. And the man who murdered Jessica was seen arguing with you, not once, but at least twice. Tell me what you know. It could help.”

“There's no connection.” Harsh. Clipped.

“Are you positive about that?” I pressed.

“I am.” He clamped his teeth together hard enough, I heard them click.

A new thought popped into my head. I'd assumed Terry had fought with Philip because he knew about the man's past and was looking to protect not just his daughter, but Mrs. Yarborough. But what if that wasn't it at all?

I took a step toward him, stepping on the lonely grape in the process. “Elaine doesn't know why she was invited here,” I said, keeping my voice low. “She doesn't have the money or social standing to attend something like this.” Neither did I, but at least I knew where my invite had come from. “She was wearing the same dress as the victim. That can't be a coincidence.”

Terry's eyes hardened. “You don't know what you are talking about.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” I asked, taking a quick peek at the table. There was nothing there Terry could use as a weapon, so as long as he didn't have a machine gun under his jacket, I thought I was safe. I did tighten my grip on Will's cane, just in case.

“Enlighten me.” He crossed his arms.

“I think you invited Elaine to the party yourself. You haven't had a lot to do with your daughter, or your ex-wife, since the divorce. And then out of the blue, Elaine receives an invitation and is called and told to be here. So she comes to a party she has no business being at, with no one but you she knows, wearing a very distinctive outfit.”

Terry glared at me then. I pressed on, hoping he would break and confess to something, rather than break and try to strangle me instead.

“You hired Philip Carlisle to kill her.” I was as blunt as I could be, hoping it would surprise him and cause him to slip. “You knew who he was, what he was rumored to have done in his past. What you didn't realize was that he'd make a mistake. He saw Jessica dressed just as you described Elaine, and he took the opportunity to kill her. You were arguing with him, not because you were accusing him of murder, but because you were angry at him for killing the wrong person!”

“You're insane.”

“Am I?” I asked, a satisfied smile quirking the corners of my mouth. “Am I really?”

“Yes, you are.” Terry glanced around, cognizant of the eyes on us. “I didn't invite Elaine here.”

“Oh?” I asked, not buying it for a second. “Then who did?”

“I don't know.” He sighed. All of the strength seemed to go out of him then. Quite suddenly, he looked like a man tired of all of the pressures of his life—a man looking for a way out. “I was surprised when I saw her here,” he said. “I never would invite her to this snake pit.”

“But you didn't talk to her when you saw her, did you?”

He winced. “I wanted to, but didn't think she would want to have anything to do with me.” He closed his eyes for a second, as if fighting back tears. “I saw her, and then when I saw Philip, I immediately thought something was wrong. I didn't know why he would want to hurt her, but feared he would. He isn't a pleasant man. Since neither of them should have been here, I knew it couldn't be a coincidence.”

“So you confronted him about it,” I said. Maybe I was wrong about Terry. I found myself believing his every word, though that could simply mean he was a very good liar.

“I did. I saw him talking to Margaret and, I don't know . . .” He shrugged. “I wanted to warn her off of him, to tell him to leave. Then, later, I confronted him about the death of that poor girl. He acted like none of it bothered him. I didn't know what his plan was, and still don't, but as long as he left Elaine out of it, I didn't care.”

“If you were so worried about Elaine's safety, why didn't you go over to her? It's easier to protect someone if they are by your side.”

“I . . .” His shoulders sagged. “I didn't want to fight with her. You have to understand, when I divorced her mother, I left them with nothing. I help out when I can, but I know it isn't enough. I don't know how to make things better between us; I wouldn't know where to start. How do you think she'd react if I suddenly appeared at her side and told her I was going to protect her after all this time? I'd be lucky if she only walked away.”

There was real pain in his voice. I genuinely believed he wanted to have a better relationship with his daughter but didn't know how to begin. How
do
you go up to someone you'd left behind and make things right? I wasn't even sure you could.

“What about Margaret Yarborough?” I asked. I knew she had to fit into this somehow.

“What about her?”

“Were you two ever in a relationship?”

That caused a snort of laughter. “Hardly,” he said. “I was never interested in her politics, or her way of life.” As he spoke, his voice got angrier. “If it wasn't for the Yarboroughs, things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand.” He glanced past me, to Elaine again. “If you wouldn't mind, I'd rather forget about all of this.”

“I'm sorry,” I told him. “I'm only asking because I want to know why Jessica was killed.”

Terry gave a bitter laugh. “Ask Philip if you want to know that. She probably rejected him, much like she did her boyfriend. If it isn't obvious by now, Philip doesn't take the word
no
as graciously as others.”

Could it really be so simple? Had Philip come across Jessica alone, angry over what she viewed as public humiliation, even though she'd been the one doling it out? What if he asked her out, or tried to kiss her? I had no doubt she would have told him off right then and there. He was a man of violence. He wouldn't take the slight softly.

But if he was a hired killer, why would he be here tonight of all nights?

Because of Margaret's list.
They'd been lovers. He didn't have to have come with murder on his mind. It could have been something that had just happened.

“Thank you,” I told Terry. “You've been a great help.”

He grunted and then with a glance at his empty plate, he walked away.

Everyone who'd been watching us promptly lost interest and went back to their own conversations. When I turned, Elaine was still watching me, though. She looked sad, as if she'd wanted to join us but couldn't bring herself to take those fateful steps to reconciliation.

She turned away, looking heartbroken, and I realized she'd been hoping her dad would have been the one to send her the invitation. Just because their relationship wasn't great, didn't mean she didn't want to have one. It was human nature to care for family, even when things become strained.

Vicki glanced at me then. I raised a finger at her, telling her I'd be a minute more. She nodded and went back to the conversation with Will, Lance, and the others. I noted Darrin, Carl, and their wives had joined the group. I had no interest in listening to the two women complain. There were far more important things that deserved my attention.