Death Loved A Woman (Happy Holloway Mystery Book 2) (5 page)

“If there’s nothing else you want to know,” Mark began, “I’ve got things to do.”

“Were you meeting someone?”

He laughed. “Jeez, you’re gullible. That looking around and acting all suspicious was a show, too. It was fun. I can’t imagine your books do very well, if you’re that easy to fool. Entertain me again sometime, Annie.”

“My books do great.” She yanked her purse off her shoulder and shuffled through it. When she found a business card, she shoved it into his hand. “Look me up online, or you can walk into any bookstore, and they’ll order one of my books for you.”

He tapped the card against his palm after examining it. “Maybe I will.”

Before he could walk away, she thought of another question. “Mark, were there special terms for Wesley to get the inheritance from his grandmother? From what I’ve heard, it seems like she’s already passed, and he was what, thirty or so? Seems an odd age to wait for an inheritance.”

“Wesley was twenty-nine. His grandmother died six years ago. He would get her money when he turned thirty or when he got married, whichever came first.”

“You’re kidding? Thirty? That seems unreasonable in this day and age.”

“What other use did he have for the money? He still lived at home like I do. We come and go whenever we want. We have an allowance, and we can travel the world if we like. Servants at our beck and call.”

He gestured around him.

“And a town full of people who kiss the ground my dad walks on.”

“But not you,” she said.

His lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl. “See you around, Annie. Or not.”

She watched him go, and then started at the sound of screeching wheels. A car pulled sharply around the corner and cut in front of Mark before he could cross the street. Annie stared in horror as Flynn climbed out from behind the wheel and grabbed Mark’s jacket front.

“You and I are going to have a conversation,” Flynn growled. “Get in!”

A
nnie stood there
while she and many other town residents watched Flynn almost throw Mark inside his car and peel away from the curb. She blinked in confusion. What in the world had set Flynn off so much, and where was he taking Mark?

As she thought about her conversation with Mark and his attitude, she didn’t blame Flynn. From what she saw, Mark was the kind of man who liked pushing other people until they lost their cool. Flynn being worried about Barbara Jean would be easy to get riled. What concerned her was how far Flynn would go.

Annie ran down the street to her own car and hopped in. She drove in the general direction she had seen Flynn drive but didn’t come across him anywhere. Going on a hunch, she drove in the direction of the firehouse and spotted Flynn’s car pulled haphazardly into a lot on the opposite side of the street.

The men were out of the car, and Flynn’s doors were left wide open. Like he had done in the downtown area, Flynn had Mark by his collar and shouted at him.

“Explain,
now!
”

Mark held his hand up and maintained a slight grin. Annie pulled into a spot beside Flynn’s car and hurried to get out before the men came to blows. Mark appeared cool, but his voice held a slight tremor when he spoke.

“I’d be happy to explain if you tell me what you’re all fired up about.”

Flynn tightened his grip. Annie ran over and grabbed his other wrist. He had balled his hand into a fist. “Flynn, you don’t want to get charged with assault. You’re a firefighter. I’m guessing that’s not going to go over well with your boss.”

She peered past his shoulder to the firehouse. Was he nuts for bringing Mark here? He couldn’t hide it if he did get into a scuffle.

Annie’s words seemed to get through to him, and Flynn released Mark and backed up a step. He folded his arms over his chest, and Annie guessed he did it to keep from hitting Mark.

“I talked to one of your maids,” Flynn said. “She had some interesting information.”

Mark brushed hands over his jacket and straightened. He gazed around, and Annie did as well, but no one wandered this particular street where there was only a few businesses and the firehouse. The guys hadn’t noticed them yet.

“You can’t keep the help from gossiping,” Mark quipped.

Flynn gritted his teeth. “Don’t play that smug role with me. She said you stole Wesley and Barbara Jean’s marriage license.”

Annie gasped and covered her mouth.

“Yeah, so?”

She couldn’t believe he wasn’t denying it.

“You admit you tried to stop them from getting married?” Flynn was back to hovering over Mark, ready to strike. Annie debated running across the street to get Shem, but if she did, Flynn might lose control before they got back.

“Flynn, calm down.” She touched his shoulder. He didn’t look her way or acknowledge her words.

“It wasn’t for me,” Mark admitted. “My stepmother asked me to steal it, so I did. I gave it to her. I don’t know if she destroyed it or not.”

“You’re a sorry excuse for a son,” Flynn bit out. “You’d sell out your own mother?”

“She’s not my mother. Like I told Annie, Racine will do anything to maintain this stupid image of our family. Barbara Jean doesn’t fit in the picture. So you’re telling me I should lie and let myself get beat up to protect her?”

Annie stepped around Flynn. “If you think so little of her, why did you do her dirty work?”

“I agreed with her for once, and turning over the license to her meant it was on her, not me.”

Some of Flynn’s heat died down. “Stealing the license is stupid. You didn’t think you could stop them from getting married, did you?”

“It would cause a delay at least. Barbara Jean didn’t love my brother. She wanted our money. She proved it every time she broke it off with him to run back to you. As far as I’m concerned, the two of you probably worked together to kill Wesley.”

Flynn aimed a fist, and Mark ducked, covering his head with both hands. Annie recognized the move as a bluff, but Flynn got the reaction from Mark he wanted.

“Get this straight,” Flynn growled. “I’m not a murderer, and neither is BJ.”

Mark took his time rising. “Whatever. Are you satisfied? Can I go now?”

“For the time being.”

Mark walked away at a clipped pace and soon disappeared around the corner. Flynn turned to Annie, glaring, but she smiled back at him, totally unfazed with his anger.

“Annie, why were you talking to him?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m investigating the case.”

“I told you to stay out of it.”

“I don’t recall.”

His expression darkened further. “What else did he tell you?”

“Is Barbara Jean out of jail?”

He sighed. “Yes, I told her to lay low for a while.”

“Until you clear her name.”

“I’m not having this argument again, Annie.”

She swung away. “I’m not arguing.”

He sidestepped her and cut off her path. “You’re not going to butt out, are you?”

“Nope. So, tell me. Are you going to ask Racine if she asked Mark to steal the license?”

“I might, but I don’t think it will do any good. Unlike her stepson who loves telling you exactly what’s on his mind, Racine will lie about the color of her eyes while you’re staring into them.”

“Oh,” Annie whispered. “I like that observation. Can I use it?”

He frowned.

“Doesn’t this prove Barbara Jean wasn’t married to Wesley and therefore had no reason to kill him?”

Flynn rubbed his eyes. “No, unfortunately, it doesn’t. One, I can’t prove Mark stole it for himself or his mother. Two, BJ still insists she married Wesley.”

Annie’s mouth fell open. “She has to realize if they weren’t married, she doesn’t have a motive.”

Red tinged his cheeks. “She believes I’ll find a way to clear her name.”

“Meaning she’s free
and
she can claim the inheritance.” Annie held up her hands. “Whoa, Flynn, don’t get mad at me again.”

He stared at her in silence a minute. “Annie, I apologize for what I said before. I know you’re not that kind of woman.”

She winked. “I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

He chuckled and walked over to his car. “I’ve got to figure out a way to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Witman. Their driver isn’t letting me near them, and calls go to voicemail, which gives the name of their lawyer.”

Annie tapped a finger against her cheek as she thought. “I’m sure I can think of a way or two to get to them. Leave it to me.”

“I didn’t want you to get involved.”

“That’s when you were silly enough to think I would try to frame her because she’s skinny and cute.”

“I didn’t say that, Annie.”

She swung toward her car.

“Hey, Annie.”

She looked back at him.

“You’re cute, too.”

A smirk curved her lips. “I know.”

Annie pulled out her cell phone when she got in the car, and she dialed a familiar number. She cringed some at the payment for the favor, but decided it was worth it.

“Hello, Aunt Bridge, it’s Annie.”

“Annie, sweetheart, I was going to call you tonight and talk to you about a nice young man I just met.”

Annie groaned and decided to get straight to the point. “Aunt Bridge, I was wondering if you know a Mr. and Mrs. Witman.”

“The name sounds familiar. Let me think. Wait, didn’t they have a death in the family recently? I know I’ve heard that name thrown about among the ladies in the last few days. My mind is all over the place what with all I have going on.”

“Their son was murdered. They’re one of the wealthiest families in Mars Cove.”

“Mars Cove, isn’t that where that firefighter friend of yours lives?”

“You know about Flynn?”

“Stacy told me all about him. I had hopes something would develop between you, but maybe he’s a little too out of your league, sweetheart.”

“Wow, thanks, Aunt Bridge.”

“I’m just saying the really handsome men tend to go for a different sort of woman. I love you, dear, but well, you do have your challenges. You’re a beautiful woman in your own right, but we must be realistic.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “If my self-esteem were low, Aunt Bridge, you would have sent the last of it up in flames.”

“Annie, don’t be so sensitive.”

“Anyway, I was wondering if you can do me a huge favor, Aunt Bridge. I hear Mr. Witman is involved with a lot of charity giving. Can you arrange a meeting with him for me under the guise of charity work? Unless he’s on a higher level that you don’t deal with.”

Annie recalled while Aunt Bridge seemed to have an endless supply of her own money, most of the people who attended her fundraisers were far below the Witmans in financial standing.

“I’ll have you know, I have rubbed elbows with some of the most influential men and women in America. My second husband had many important connections. As his wife, I got to meet quite a few rich and famous. However, I prefer our small city and the people that make it up.”

“I apologize if I offended you, Aunt.”

“No, you couldn’t have known, honey. You are my biggest case, and if you are interested in rubbing elbows with such as the Witmans, then I’m going to do all I can to support you. Now that I think of it, I believe I heard they have another eligible son.”

Annie dropped her face into her hands. “Why do I have to be a ‘case’?” She decided not to deny an interest in Mark so her aunt wouldn’t back out of helping her.

“I can do better than getting you in to see them for charity sake. If I’m not mistaken, it was Nan who mentioned them to me recently. Let me give her a call and phone you back. Don’t you worry. I’ll see you settled no matter what.”

Annie mustered a bit of enthusiasm. “Thanks, Aunt Bridge. I knew I could count on you.”

T
he doorbell rang
, and Annie checked her image in the full-length mirror. She wore a blush chiffon gown with a V-neckline and a sequined design from her shoulders to mid-thigh. The part she really liked was the hook and eye closure in the back. For some reason, that kind of feature in a dress always gave her an extra warm-and-fuzzy in the center of her tummy. She was weird, but so what. She looked amazing.

The dress was a knockoff of a ritzy one she had seen for three hundred dollars but managed to buy cheaper at another store. She had ordered it online and had it delivered that morning. Cutting it close, she also purchased two different pairs of heels to try with the dress once it arrived. Thank goodness, the fit was awesome.

Not being a woman who concentrated much on fashion—unlike that night—Annie didn’t usually spend a lot of time on her looks. Blond highlights in her mousy brown hair and just above the shoulder cut was as far as she went. Normally, she polished her own toenails and kept her fingernails bare. Since she did a lousy job on the toes, this time she had sprung for a pedicure.

The season turning cooler meant her feet might be a bit chilly, but she figured the party would take place inside, so she would be fine.

When Aunt Bridge called to tell her she had arranged for Annie to receive an invitation to a party at the Witman house, she couldn’t believe it. They had just lost their son, and they were throwing a party? Aunt Bridge explained the event had already been set, and Racine Witman wanted to change the theme a little to be a celebration of her son’s life.

“She probably wants to cry and get as much sympathy from her friends and acquaintances as possible,” Annie’s friend Stacy had said.

“Stacy, neither of us can imagine what it’s like to lose a child. Don’t be so hard on her.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Annie had studied Stacy’s face and noticed the pallor to her skin and the sadness in her eyes. “How are you and Robert doing?”

“We’re…fine.”

“Stacy?”

“Don’t worry, Annie. You just go find out who killed Wesley and come back and tell me every detail. I’m all aflutter to know the details.”

“Aflutter, huh?” Annie teased. Stacy loved historical and Regency romances, and her vocabulary tended to show every now and then. “Okay, well wish me luck.”

“Good luck.”

Her conversation with Stacy a couple days ago kept her wondering about what was going on with the woman, but now her date had arrived. She needed to concentrate on the night’s events and figure out what she would say to Wesley’s parents to get them talking—or anyone else who might know something for that matter.

Annie opened the front door to Omen Nobleton, her date. Omen, still painfully thin and still wearing clothing that appeared too big for him, smiled at Annie and let his gaze travel up and down her length.

“Wow, Annie, you look amazing.”

“Thanks. Why does your tone sound so shocked?”

He laughed. “I’m not. I’m just blown away. Maybe tonight won’t be as boring as I expected.”

“Sweetheart, when I’m involved no event will be boring. I won’t allow it.” She moved to his side and took his arm. “Shall we go? Aunt Bridge told me the food at the Witmans’ house is sure to be delicious. I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.”

He led her to his car waiting in the driveway. “We can’t let you go hungry, then. Can we?”

“No one wants that.”

Annie joked and laughed with Omen all the way to the Witman house. Half her mind was occupied with the coming party. On the other hand, she felt free to enjoy herself. Omen wouldn’t look at her seriously as a date no matter how badly Aunt Bridge willed it.

The Witman house was an old-styled one. From the outside, Annie would guess it held at least five bedrooms, if not more. The stone exterior walls matched great with the lavish grounds. Wesley’s family had gone all out by designing the bushes to look like various animals.

“Pretentious,” Omen muttered when they stepped out of the car. “I wonder if they’ll consider us beneath them.”

He pulled a large invitation from his jacket, and Annie read the glossy script. The card looked authentic. Not that she doubted it, but nerves stirred in her stomach. Omen worked as a teller at a local bank, and Annie was a mystery writer, not even a New York Times best selling one. Neither of them had money.

As Omen handed his keys to a valet, Annie gazed around at the other cars arriving. She winced at the fact that Omen drove a Smart Fortwo, while Jaguars, Porsches and BWMs among other expensive car models arrived after them. These weren’t the vehicles she saw zipping around Mars Cove. They must have come from farther away.

“I’ve never felt so common,” Omen muttered, his expression tense.

Annie tugged him in the direction of the house. “I wouldn’t think this kind of thing would bother you.”

His eyes widened. “If you tell me you’re not nervous, Annie, I’m going to ask you to marry me right now.”

She grinned. “It’s all in the attitude, Omen. I’m an international plus size model, and you’re a bank manager.”

“But—”

“We’re not going to say it. Unfortunately, they’ve already met me.” She snapped her fingers. “Pretending to be a model would have been fun for the night. Darn, maybe next time.”

He shook his head, and then the tension drained from his face. “Okay, I’m Hinkle.”

“Huh?”

He laughed. “That’s my boss’s name. Not very romantic, but he thinks he’s top shelf. So it doesn’t matter. I’ll project his confidence.”

She patted his arm. “Good for you. Let’s do this.”

They strode into the house and handed the doorman their invitation. Annie experienced a moment of panic with the man whose nose was higher in the air than Mr. Witman’s last time she had seen him. The doorman nodded and waved them in after they gave their names.

Annie paused to take in the opulence. The house was larger than she’d at first thought. Her Victorian included five bedrooms and a den, but the Wesley’s foyer was easily bigger than her living and dining rooms combined.

Omen stared up at the chandelier highlighting a painting of a woman with a sheet hanging off both bare shoulders. Annie estimated the canvas was taller than her or even Flynn. The woman’s face looked familiar, but young and pretty with smooth porcelain-like skin.

“You there. Don’t gawk in the hallway. You’re blocking the entrance!”

Annie looked down from the painting into the muse’s face. Mrs. Witman was far from young and beautiful, although Annie didn’t judge her harshly. She’d just aged quite a bit from whenever she’d posed for the portrait. She wondered how the woman felt seeing herself immortalized, a reminder of what was gone forever.

“I apologize, Mrs. Witman,” Annie said, stepping forward, “and I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Annie Holloway, wasn’t it?” Racine frowned at her. “You’re a friend of Flynn’s. I hear you’re a writer, and your aunt is Bridget Blankenship. How is Bridget?”

“You know my aunt?”

“She used to make the same rounds with her husband but fell out of sight. I haven’t seen her for many years.”

Annie wouldn’t tell the woman that Aunt Bridge had all but forgotten her existence, except when Nan brought her up. Then again, Mrs. Witman could just be pretending to recall Aunt Bridge. She seemed like the kind of woman who armed herself with information before facing her audience.

Annie started to answer, but Mrs. Witman dismissed them and moved on to another guest arriving. She didn’t acknowledge poor Omen’s presence.

He grumbled as they headed into a room where Annie spotted others milling about with plates. “I didn’t get to put on my Hinkle performance.”

“Aw, maybe later. She knows I’m a writer, so I didn’t get to perform either. Plus, I had wanted to question her about her son. Coming face to face, it felt inappropriate. Let’s look for someone else to impress with our natural charm.”

He grinned. “Lead the way.”

Annie first made a beeline for the appetizers. She couldn’t resist a crab ball or two. Omen at her side, piled a small serving of caviar onto her plate.

“Try this,” he said.

She noticed he didn’t add any to his own plate. The little black balls touched one of the crab puffs, and her appetite died. She gazed around the room. “Oh, look, isn’t he a congressman?”

Omen swung away to look the direction she pointed. A waiter passed nearby, and Annie deposited her plate onto his tray. Her appetite sprang to life again, and she fixed herself a new plate sans the fish eggs. By the time Omen turned back to her, she wandered the room, looking for someone who knew Wesley.

Annie came across two young women in their twenties or so, and she smiled as she drew near. Both women were slender, with long bare legs revealed in short, stylish dresses. Their hair was piled atop their heads, uncovering delicate shoulders and long, graceful necks. Annie was glad to find, despite their beauty and possible wealth, they seemed approachable.

“Hi, I’m Annie Holloway.” She held onto her plate with both hands.

“Connie.”

“Jamie.”

“I love that bag, Connie,” Annie gushed. “I feel like I’ve seen it at Antoine’s.”

Connie’s face brightened, and she hugged the purse. “Yes, I got it for a steal.”

Annie had no idea if Antoine’s was anything. She threw out the word that sounded kind of exotic. Connie named a figure that had Annie’s head swirling. If the price she named was a steal, then she must mean walking out of the shop without paying.

Jamie rolled her eyes. “I wish I was in Paris instead of here. I always hate coming home. I will never let anyone know I’m from anywhere as provincial as North Carolina.”

“I tell people I’m from New York when I travel.” Connie laughed. “It’s more fun that way.”

Both girls giggled, and Annie hated to tell them they each spoke with a distinct southern twang, common to North and South Carolina. She happened to love the south and would proudly speak of her origins if someday she chose to travel away from home again.

“So did either of you know Wesley?” Annie asked, for wont of any other way to lead into the conversation that interested her most.

Both women pouted, but Connie spoke. “Our families have known each other forever. Jamie’s dad is Mr. Witman’s lawyer, actually.”

“No kidding?”

“Yeah, we’re not on their level exactly, but Dad does okay, and at least Mr. Witman invites us to these things.”

“What kind of man was Wesley?”

The girls seemed not to notice Annie’s great interest in Wesley, so she decided to keep questioning them.

Again, Connie acted as the mouthpiece for both. “He was kind of a wimp.”

Jamie snorted and smacked her friend’s arm. “Keep your voice down, stupid. If we don’t get invited back, it’s your fault.”

Connie gazed around the room and ducked her head closer to Annie’s. “He was, though. Wesley didn’t have to make one decision for himself. Mommie and Daddy decided everything, especially
Mommie
. We were all surprised when he started dating Barbara Jean.”

“Maybe it was his way of taking charge of his life as a man,” Annie suggested.

They blinked at her, and Jamie laughed.

“A man?” Connie shook her head. “Barbara Jean led him around by his nose. All she needed to do was put a ring in it.”

“No, she was trying to get that on her finger,” Jamie said.

They cracked up.

“You think Barbara Jean didn’t love him?”

“Who would?” Connie appeared genuinely curious. “Sometimes Wesley got bold and stood up to Flynn, but we all knew it was just show. He knew Barbara Jean loves Flynn. All Wesley ever did was throw around his daddy’s name.”

Jamie disagreed. “No, he never needed to do that much. Everyone knew who he was, and they just stayed out of his way and gave him what he wanted.”

Annie noticed Omen heading their way, but she didn’t feel she had learned anything useful yet. She cut to the chase. “Can either of you think of anyone who would want to hurt Wesley?”

“Racine,” they chorused together and then slapped hands over their mouths, eyes wide and staring around the room. Several heads turned in their direction, but Annie had asked her question low enough for just the girls to hear. As far as anyone else was concerned, they were just mentioning the hostess.

“Not Barbara Jean?”

“She wanted him for his money,” Connie explained. “She wasn’t unwinding her hooks until she sealed the deal. They’re not married, so he should be alive.”

To Annie’s relief, Omen stopped to speak with a rotund man in an old-styled brown suit.

“Why would you think his mother would want to kill him?”

Jamie squeezed Connie’s arm to silence her. “I can answer that. Racine is a witch.”