Karma's a Killer (12 page)

Maggie stood. “Sally, do you mind showing these two out?”

I nudged Michael's leg, silently asking him to follow my lead. “Is it okay if we stick around until you're done? Michael has a few other fundraising ideas he wants to run past you, and I'd like to give my condolences to your family.”

Maggie shrugged. “Suit yourself. Sally will introduce you around.” She left the room before Sally had a chance to reply.

Sally's jaw hardened, so subtly that I almost missed it. “Come on. Let's get out of here. I hate this room.”

“Between the guns and the mounted animals, it's pretty imposing,” Michael replied.

“The guns aren't the problem. They're a tool, like anything else. I carry a handgun for self-defense. But I'd never use it to kill an animal just so I could hang its head on my wall. It's barbaric.”

Michael whispered in my ear as we followed Sally back to the living room. “What fundraising ideas do I have?”

I whispered back. “I don't know. It was the best excuse I could come up with on short notice. Suggest a yogathon or something.”

Sally glanced back at us quizzically. I smiled and tried to distract her with conversation. “Did you know Raven well?”

“I used to. She helped get DogMa up and running. I lost track of her when she moved to Sacramento and started that vegan activist nonsense. Frankly, I was glad to see her go. I always thought she was unstable, but that's not surprising, considering that grandmother of hers.”

“Raven helped start DogMa?” I frowned. Maggie's secrecy about Raven was even more suspicious than I'd originally thought. “If she was one of DogMa's founders, why was she protesting it?”

Sally didn't reply, at least not to my question. She waved at a woman across the room. “I see someone I need to talk to. Are you guys okay on your own?” She was halfway across the room before she finished the sentence.

“That was weird,” Michael said.

“What about this situation
isn't
weird? I know you like Maggie, but I swear she's hiding something.”

Michael's brow wrinkled. “I'm beginning to think you're right.” He glanced around the crowded room. “We should talk to as many people as possible before Maggie comes back. Want to split up so we can cover more ground?”

“Good idea.”

Michael headed back to the food table, ostensibly to talk to the people in line. I suspected he was really after another slice of prime rib.

I divided my time between unobtrusive eavesdropping and asking hopefully innocent-sounding questions.

I didn't learn much. Certainly nothing that would get Dharma out of the King County Jail.

The general consensus was that Raven had been pretty, intelligent, passionate, and troubled, but no one volunteered what those troubles might have been. When I asked about Maggie, everyone agreed that she and Raven had been close growing up, but then they quickly changed the subject.

I was about to find Michael to compare notes when I saw two fifty-something women—one bottled blonde, the other bottled red—huddled near the wet bar, whispering. I meandered next to them, poured a glass of Chablis, and pretended to read the label.

The blonde spoke first. “This whole display is shameful. Everyone acts like losing Raven is such a blow to her grandmother. They hadn't even spoken for almost a year.”

“Can you imagine what Raven would have said about the food? Seeing all of that meat would have sent her right through the roof.”

“It's the old bat's way of having the final word.” The blonde nudged her friend and pointed at Maggie, who was setting out another huge platter of seafood. “Have you noticed the way Maggie's cozying up to her now? She's angling to get the money back.”

“Why bother? Maggie will get it all when her grandmother croaks, anyway. How much longer can she live?”

“I thought the granddaughters were cut out of the will.”

“Just Raven. It was her punishment for taking up with those California nut jobs.” The redhead leaned in closer. “I heard she went back to that biker boyfriend of hers from high school.”

The blonde's eyes widened. “The Mexican one?” She sniggered. “Ooh, I'll bet Grandma Dearest didn't like that one bit. She tolerates nothing but the purest white blossoms on
her
family tree. What was his name again?”

“Ned … Ed … Something like that.”

The name popped out before I could stop it. “Eduardo?”

The redhead glared at me over the top of her glasses. “Yes, that might be it.”

Both women gave me a scathing look and scurried away.

So much for any additional gossip I'd glean from that conversation. Still, the tidbits I'd overheard were intriguing. Obviously, I needed to learn more about Raven's inheritance. Now that she was dead, she could never be added back into her grandmother's will. An estate likely worth millions would be a great motive for murder. And what about Raven and Eduardo? They had a much longer history than Dharma had implied. Did Dharma deliberately hide it from me, or did she not know? More importantly, did something in that history cause Raven's death?

I needed to talk all of this over with Michael.

He wasn't in the living room, so I wandered down the hallway toward the office. No luck there, either. I was about to give the coat room a try when I heard angry whispering. I couldn't make out most of the words, but I would have sworn one of them was “Raven.” I followed the sound to a partially closed door, edged up to the opening, and pretended to examine the photograph hanging on the wall beside it.

Ginny, Raven's mother, stood next to an antique armoire in what appeared to be a bedroom. She was speaking with an older woman who wore a dark wool pantsuit and a short strand of pearls. The woman's lips pressed into a thin, tight line.

The evil grandmother, I presumed.

“Get yourself together, Virginia, and lay off the alcohol. I will not tolerate any more drunken displays. Today is not about you. Raven was my granddaughter. I'm grieving, too. ”

“My daughter was
murdered
.”

“Which is tragic, but not unexpected. Raven was always wild, never levelheaded like Maggie.” The old woman's blue eyes turned icy. “Frankly, I blame you and my son—God rest his soul. You both coddled her too much.”

Ginny's mouth fell open. “Listen, you coldhearted prune. Raven's death isn't my fault, it's yours. If you hadn't cut off her trust fund allowance when Herbert died, she would have been fine. She'd have stayed in Seattle and kept working with Maggie. Instead, she ran off to join those animal rights nut jobs.”

“Herbert overindulged those girls. It was time someone put a stop to it.”

“Fine. But why single out Raven? You broke that girl's heart.”

The older woman's shoulders stiffened. “I treated my granddaughters equally. I cut off both of their trust funds, and you know it.”

“But you didn't
disinherit
Maggie.”

“That's because Maggie actually
did
something with her trust fund money, even if it was setting up that idiotic pet warehouse. I gave Raven over a year to get her act together after I cut off her allowance. I would have put her back in the will as soon as she proved herself.”

“Proved herself? Raven would never have been good enough for you.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Raven was given every opportunity to succeed. I paid for her business degree and what did she do? She pissed her education away on drugs and sit-ins.”

Ginny's voice trembled. “That's not fair. Raven never wanted that MBA. You bullied her into it, just like you bully the rest of us into doing anything you want.”

“She snorted away her future because I sent her to college? Please. You can't possibly be that naïve.”

“Raven hadn't touched cocaine in over five years, and you know it. She did the work. She got clean. She's not the only person in this family with addictions, but you don't care about that. You save all of your love for your precious Maggie.”

“Virginia!” the old woman spat. “That is quite enough! Don't you
dare
try to tell me that I didn't love Raven.
I
bailed her out of jail.
I
hired the attorneys that got her off with probation.
I
paid for her rehab. Raven made her choices, and they were poor ones. Spending my money on drugs, anti-meat lobbyists, and spray-painting fur coats? It was humiliating.” The grandmother's jaw clenched. “Maggie may be impulsive, but she would never shame me and this family. Not the way Raven did.”

Tears streamed down Ginny's face. “Maggie's no angel when it comes to your precious money either, and Raven was going to prove it. She finally had the evidence. But that crazy woman killed her before she had the chance.”

She leaned in close to the older woman's face. “I hate you, you know. We all do. And for the last time, I go by
Ginny
!” She ran out of the room, dashed past me, and disappeared down the hallway.

The older woman glared at the door—or more accurately at me, standing behind it—and shook her head. “So many histrionics. Exactly like her daughter.”

She glanced to my left. “Maggie, I'm going to rest now. See if you can calm down Virginia. I no longer have the patience.” She paused before closing the door between us. “And for heaven's sake, lock up the alcohol.”

When I turned around, Michael, Maggie, and Sally stood behind me, gaping like a silent Three Stooges.

Maggie spoke first. “I'm sorry you had to witness that. My Aunt Ginny can be a little hysterical when she's drunk.”

“No problem,” Michael replied. “We get it. This is a tough day.”

Maggie turned to Sally. “Would you mind putting away the alcohol while I talk to Kate and Michael?” She looked at her watch. “After that, you'd better check to make sure that the animals have been taken care of. The volunteers can be flaky.”

Sally's mouth fell open. “Seriously? Today is my day off. I'm supposed to be with my own family, but instead I've been stuck here with yours. And now you expect me to take care of the animals, too? For once, could you please do your part?”

“This is my cousin's memorial. My place is here with my family.” Maggie's expression hardened. “When Victor dies, I promise that you'll get the whole day off, too. Now go.”

Sally's face blanched, then flashed bright red. “You've become as awful as that old hag. Tell me, Maggie, is all that money worth losing your soul?” She turned to Michael and me. “Enjoy the rest of your time with the Addams family. These ghouls are all yours.” She pushed past Maggie and stormed down the hallway.

Maggie reached for her. “Sally, I'm sorry. Wait.”

Her words echoed off Sally's back. Ten seconds later, the front door slammed solidly behind her.

“What was that all about?” Michael asked.

Maggie stared at the door, as if willing Sally to walk back through it. “The most recent battle in Sally's and my ongoing war. As usual, I think we both lost.” She looked back at Michael. “She's right, you know. Not about me pulling my own weight. I work practically twenty-four/seven on fundraising, and I honestly can't leave here today. But I
am
turning into a ghoul. Mocking Sally's sick husband was completely out of line. I don't know what's gotten into me.”

“You've had a death in the family. Cut yourself a little slack.”

“Thanks, but Sally's and my conflict started long before today. Sometimes I wish I'd never started that damned rescue.”

Michael frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Building a shelter was supposed to be fun. I had an amazing vision for DogMa. It was going to be an example for no-kill shelters everywhere. I hired Raven to manage the business and Sally to take care of animal welfare and adoptions. I was in charge of fundraising and publicity.” She shook her head. “None one of us knew what we were getting ourselves into, but it worked, for a while anyway.”

“What happened?” I asked.

She shrugged. “The money disappeared. My grandfather died and my grandmother cut off Raven's and my trust funds. I certainly wasn't happy, but Raven had a complete meltdown. She abandoned her work at DogMa and took off for California to found HEAT. Without the trust fund money, I had to drum up donations—fast—so Sally was forced to take on the bulk of Raven's work.” Maggie sighed. “As if that wasn't bad enough, Sally's husband had a stroke two months later. Sally kids herself, but he won't ever recover. Dying would be a blessing.”

I
didn't know what to say, so I remained silent. Maggie continued.

“We're under so much pressure it's a wonder we both haven't imploded. I hoped that Saturday's fundraiser would make a difference, and it did. But our bills have skyrocketed in the past year. Most of that money is already spoken for.”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm unloading all of this on you. Apparently my aunt isn't the only one who's had too much alcohol today.” She turned toward Michael. “I appreciate everything you've done for us. I hope you don't hold Sally's and my tiff against DogMa.”

Michael smiled. “Of course not.”

I felt bad for pressing, but my priority had to be Dharma. “I understand why Sally is frustrated, but that doesn't explain Raven.”

Maggie's expression stiffened. “What you mean?”

“Raven helped start DogMa, right?”

Maggie didn't reply.

“So why was she picketing Saturday's event?”

Maggie stared at the ground for several long seconds. “This is really family business, but I guess I owe you an explanation. My grandmother didn't react well when Raven took off. She was certain that Raven had started using cocaine again.” She shrugged. “Heck, she was probably right. Either way, she cut Raven out of the will and left everything to me. Raven convinced herself that her disinheritance was my fault—my idea, even. I told her to be patient. That Grandma would eventually change her mind. She didn't believe me. She said Grandma always let me get away with murder.”