Nobody Knows (11 page)

“I’m with KEY News.”

He nodded and smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

Cassie anticipated the conversation progressing, but before either of them could go any further, a hand
tapped Leslie Sebastien on his shoulder. “Excuse me, will you?” he asked and turned away.

Cassie shrugged and went to get another glass of wine.

THOUGH SHE
hadn’t been thrilled when Webb told her he was bringing Gloria and Van along tonight, once her husband had reassured her that it would all look aboveboard, Lou-Anne Morelle hadn’t protested too much. If she wanted to keep the lifestyle to which she had so happily become accustomed, she had to make a concession or two. And, after all, it was Gloria, not Merilee, that Webb had said would star in his next movie, and Lou-Anne was grateful for that. She hadn’t liked Merilee from the first time she met the raven-haired beauty at Webb’s office. But Webb was crazy about her. Too crazy.

Lou-Anne made it a point to talk to as many people as she could on the terrace. That was her job as a fundraiser committee member. She knew, or at least recognized, most of the guests. It was the same crowd that attended all the other Sarasota social and charity events through the year. But what was with the woman standing by the bar wearing the black pants and T-shirt? For just an instant, Lou-Anne wrinkled her nose in distaste. The woman was surely pretty enough, but how gauche of her to come to this event dressed that way.

THE SMALL
courtyard at the side of the house was a good place to talk. The two took a seat beneath the elevated
bronze statues of the fabled Romulus and Remus.

“I’m sure it was the ring you bought,” the jeweler insisted. “It was one of a kind. If there was any doubt, my hallmark stamped inside nailed it.”

“What about the guy who brought it in?”

“I didn’t recognize him,” said Sebastien, “and he wouldn’t leave his name. But I can tell you one thing. He hadn’t been in the store before. This guy is no regular to St. Armands Circle.”

“What did he look like?”

“Older guy, big, white mustache. Could be distinguished if he had the right clothes. Leathery skin, but not from sailing around on some yacht or golfing the fairways. This man works with his hands.”

“Did you buy the ring from him?”

“No. I said it was getting late and I had somewhere to be. I thought I would talk to you first. I told him to come back tomorrow. I can have the police waiting for him then.” Sebastien looked at his companion.

“Have you called the police already?”

“No. I wanted to see how you wanted to handle this. I didn’t know if you wanted the police to be involved since you bought the ring for her.”

“Let me think about it, will you, Leslie? I’ll let you know before we leave tonight.”

IT WAS
not the usual frenzied screaming that greeted the Boys Next Door as they ran out and took their places on the specially erected platform on the front lawn of Cà d’Zan, but the guests did applaud heartily.

“Hello, Sarasota,” called Sarge Tucker into his microphone. “The Boys Next Door are honored to be here tonight to support the various wonderful charities in this, my beloved, hometown. Thank you, ladies and gents.”

There was more enthusiastic applause as Sarge continued. “We have a special treat tonight. The boys are going to play, for the very first time before an audience, their new single—a song that is destined for the top of the charts. So, everybody, without further ado, I present to you the Boys Next Door and ‘Nobody Knows.’ ”

The group bounded up to the stage, music blasting from the amplifiers placed strategically around the mansion grounds, as Sarge Tucker, gold chains flapping, jogged off the stage. “Nobody Knows” seemed to Cassie to be similar to the other Boys Next Door songs she had heard repeatedly blaring from Hannah’s boom box. They had annoyed her then. Now she would give anything to be upstairs in the Alexandria house again, trying to block out the loud music.

“Don’t look so enthused,” shouted a voice in her ear. It was Sarge Tucker, smiling and holding out a glossy eight-by-ten. “For your daughter,” he offered. “I hope that’s how Hannah spells her name.”

“Oh, yes, she’ll be so thrilled. Thank you.” She arranged a pleasant expression on her face and took the autographed picture from him, feeling somewhat guilty. Cassie doubted he would be so friendly if he realized that the video they had taken tonight wouldn’t air on KEY News.

The promoter held out his business card. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

Cassie politely tucked the card into her purse.

SHE WAS
going to call a taxi. Let Leroy and Felix stay as long as they cared to. She wanted to get out of here, go back to the hotel and go to bed. Too bad her heart wasn’t into socializing. There were some very handsome men at this party, she thought as she stared at a particularly good-looking man, dashing in his tuxedo. As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned and lifted his champagne glass in a gentle salute.

Embarrassed, Cassie walked back to the bar on the terrace. Pulling her cell phone from her purse, she called information and scribbled the cab company’s number on a cocktail napkin. Her next call told her that it would be twenty minutes before a car could pick her up. She asked the bartender for another glass of Merlot while she waited.

As she sipped the wine by herself, she couldn’t help but listen to the loud conversation of the threesome that stood beside her.

“My God, that was Merilee’s song,” said the woman in the gold lamé gown. “I
know
that was it. If she was here, she’d be steaming.”

“What do you mean, that was Merilee’s song?” asked the swarthy tuxedo standing next to the gold lamé.

“She wrote that song, Van. I know. Merilee played ‘Nobody Knows’ for me months ago. Haven’t you noticed how she’s always working on her music between takes?”

The swarthy one shrugged. “I never paid much attention.”

The woman turned to the other man. “Can’t you do something about it, Webb? It’s not fair. Merilee wrote that song, and now the Boys Next Door are going to make a fortune on it.”

“Merilee’s a big girl, Gloria. If there’s a battle to be fought, she can fight it on her own. She doesn’t need me or you or anyone else to do it for her. I don’t want to get involved. Web of Desire doesn’t need that kind of publicity.”

The woman pushed back her teased hair. “Well, Merilee can’t fight if she’s not around to do the fighting. Don’t get me wrong, Webb, I’m glad that I’m getting the chance to star in
Velvet Nights
since Merilee is AWOL, but while she’s missing, I think, as a businessman, you should find out what she’s entitled to for writing that song.”

As if sensing a silent partner in their conversation, the man called Webb looked in Cassie’s direction. She felt her face grow warm as she was caught eavesdropping. She took the last sip of her wine, picked up her purse from the bar, and walked away.

IN THE
absence of anything else, a glass would do it. It was a perfect murder weapon because so many people were walking around with one. A simple glass, taken from the caterer’s tray. A broken glass with a long, sharp edge would do the trick.

“Leslie, can I talk to you again? Let’s walk over to the rose garden where the music won’t be so loud.”

The jeweler came along readily, trustingly.
A lamb to the slaughter. Baa, baa, baa
.

“So what do you want me to do? Should I call the police and have them waiting when the old guy comes back tomorrow?” asked Sebastien. They walked past the statues of smiling cherubs playing musical instruments that lined the concrete drive leading to the garden.

“What time did you tell him to come?”

“I told him to come back after five o’clock. Just after closing time.”

They entered the garden, and the jeweler pulled a slim cigar from his jacket pocket. “I have another. Care to join me?”

“No thanks.”

Sebastien took a seat on a garden bench. His face was briefly illuminated as he lit up and puffed.

Poor bastard
.

“I’m in a bit of an awkward position here, Leslie. I really am in an awkward position. You understand, don’t you?”

“Of course.” The jeweler sat, staring straight ahead, working on his cigar while his companion paced.

“I really don’t want the police to be called on this because I didn’t want anyone to know I bought that ring, remember, Les?”

“Yes, I remember. And you have my word, I haven’t told anyone that you did.”

“Thank you, Les. I appreciate that. That’s why I like doing business with you.”

The pacing figure took a final swallow of champagne, walked behind the bench, and put one hand on the jeweler’s tuxedoed shoulder while the other smashed the glass flute against the concrete bench. Leslie Sebastien looked up with surprise, and then alarm, as the crystal shard was jammed into his jugular vein.

Cassie hadn’t requested a wake-up call because her body clock was programmed. The digital clock on the bedside table read 6:16. Her dry mouth and burning eyes told Cassie right away that she had had too much to drink the night before. She rose from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, squinting as she switched on the overhead light. The mirror was unforgiving.

Splashing cold water on her face, she decided that she would force herself to go for her run. That would help cleanse her system. Listening to the Weather Channel, she pulled on shorts and a baggy T-shirt and tied up her running shoes. Giselle was now officially a hurricane, having gathered speed overnight. Winds in the Gulf were being clocked at up to 90 miles per hour. But it still wasn’t clear if Sarasota would be the place Giselle made landfall.

Briefly, Cassie thought of leaving a message for Leroy, but she decided not to bother. She’d be back in less than an hour, and she doubted Leroy would be
wanting to get an early start. He had been putting the drinks away pretty well, too, last night.

The sky was a soft gray color as she walked out of the hotel and did a few stretching exercises. She chose to turn right and started to jog, quickly reaching the Ringling Causeway. As she picked up speed, she passed early morning fishermen casting their lines over the causeway railing. The air was thick, and her breathing was labored. She had to lay off the vino. It was getting to be a problem. She wasn’t a kid anymore, and she’d been noticing that the mornings after were getting tougher. It wasn’t good for her looks either. Puffiness under the eyes always looked even worse on camera.

Cassie pushed on, reaching St. Armands Circle, now quiet and deserted. She ran around the loop, passing the carefully decorated display windows, noting Tommy Bahama’s and Cafe L’Europe, restaurants that Leroy had mentioned. As she completed the circle, she noticed Sebastien Jewelers, connecting it to the man that she had met at Cà d’Zan the night before.

She headed back over the causeway, concentrating on the sidewalk in front of her, forcing herself to keep going. At last, she was done. A grassy area in front of the marina across the highway from the hotel provided a good place to walk for a while and cool down. Cassie watched as a few men, carrying fishing gear, went out to boats bobbing in the choppy water. Still days away from landfall, Giselle was making her impending fury felt.

Cassie walked out on one of the docks, stopping at the end to study the cloudy horizon.
You better change
your attitude and get psyched to cover this story, lady. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get with the program
. Why would Leroy, or anyone else for that matter, want to work with her? She was so hangdog all the time. True, she had a lot on her plate, but many others were far worse off than she. Cassie had always steered clear of people with negative attitudes. Now she had become one of those types.

She closed her eyes and promised herself that she was going to change. She was simply going to do the best she could with the things under her control. The rest was out of her hands. Hannah, the lawsuit, her place with KEY, Jim and his relationship with Gillian Cox . . . she couldn’t control any of those situations beyond giving her part in them her best effort. Covering a hurricane was a piece of cake compared with dealing with the muddle of her personal and professional life.
Dig in
.

Resolved, Cassie headed back down the dock, stopping by a man lashing heavy rope to a blue sailboat, securing it to the posts of the wooden dock.

“Getting ready for Giselle?”

The man paused and nodded grimly, adjusting his orange cap. “Yeah, and I have a hundred more just like this one to do today.”

“Oh, you work here.”

“Own the place.”

“Really? Well, I’m with KEY News, and we’re down here to cover the storm.”

“Is that right?” The man didn’t sound impressed.

Cassie went on, unperturbed. “We’ll probably be doing a story about hurricane preparations. Mind if we
come down later and do some shooting? Maybe interview you?”

“Yeah, I suppose that would be all right,” answered the man, continuing to wrap the rope. “As long as it doesn’t take too much time. I have my hands full here. We lost a lot of boats the last time a big storm blew through, and I can’t afford for that to happen again.”