Pink Balloons and Other Deadly Things (Mystery Series - Book One) (6 page)

“He isn’t here,” she snapped without glancing up from her computer.

My heart sank. Rich was my only hope. A place to start. I tried to keep my voice casual so Dot wouldn't suspect how desperate I was, wouldn't guess that I had come for anything other than my monthly check. “When will he be back? I need my check.”

“He hasn’t been in today. He
is
in mourning, you know.”

Rich hasn't missed a day of work since I’ve known him. That includes the day Matt was born and the day his father died.

“Probably left it on his desk,” I mumbled as I walked nonchalantly toward his office. I don’t know what I thought I’d find there, maybe his appointment book or Erica’s employee evaluation sheets—-some clue to give me something to go on.

Dot’s voice stopped me. “It's not the first. Your check's not due.”

I looked at the smirk on her face and something clicked. Could she possibly imagine she would have a chance with Rich if Erica were out of the way? Could her jealousy finally have driven her to
murder?

“Terrible about Erica,” I mumbled insincerely, watching her from the corner of my eye.

She hit the print button and turned to me as the printer hummed into action. “I’d say it’ll be a boon to business.”

Dot’s an equal opportunity hater.

“I can't believe you're hanging any flags at half mast either,” she added.

“I never wished her dead.” That was a lie, and we both knew it. I felt the stirrings of guilt again. “Anyway, wishing is one thing. Acting on it is something quite different.”

Dot laughed, a rasping unpleasant sound. “Whatever you say.” She swiveled around to her desk, her fingers flying over the keyboard like a tornado over dry land. Dot’s a very capable secretary. I was beginning to wonder just what else she was capable of.

My heartbeat began to outpace her machine as I considered that I might be chatting with a killer. I looked for a place to sit before my knees gave out, perched on the edge of a chair that reminded me of a banana with a shovel on top. “Weekend sure was a scorcher, wasn’t it? You manage to get out of town?”

Dot didn't break her rhythm. “No.”

“Had to work, huh?”

“I'll tell Richard you were looking for him when he calls in.”

I made believe I hadn't heard the implied dismissal. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Anything else you want?”

I tried to lean back on the shovel chair and almost fell off. I could see Dot enjoying my discomfort and had an almost irresistible urge to grab that keyboard and smack her over the head. “Come to think of it, there is. Where were you Saturday afternoon?”

“At my sister's the entire weekend. I have an airtight alibi. How about you?”

I never said Dot was a dope. Maybe she’d persuaded her sister to cover for her so she could hang this murder on me. Killing the proverbial two birds with one stone.

My brow misted with real perspiration. “I don’t need an alibi. Rich is out of my life. Erica wasn’t worth killing.”

“Spoken like a true woman scorned.” Her fingers resumed their fandango. “You know, one of the perks for me from your impending divorce is that I don't have to be polite to you anymore. So why don't you piss off?”

Religious conversion notwithstanding, I also never said she was a lady. Suddenly I didn't see any percentage in my remaining one. All the repugnance I'd felt watching her fawn over Rich, having to pretend I didn’t notice her “office wife” act, exploded like a geyser erupting. I flew across the room, leaned across her desk, my face two inches from hers. “You sick, deluded fool!” I hissed. “What do you think you’re playing at?”

Taken aback by my ferocity, she recoiled. “Get away from me or I’ll call Security.”

“Go ahead! See if Gus’ll throw me out!”

She started to get up but I trapped her between her chair and the computer table. “You think I haven't noticed your cutesy little wifey-game all these years, haven’t guessed you saw yourself honeymooning in Europe, dining at Le Cirque, hostessing all those lavish little soirees for the company clients?”

“You’re crazy!”

“Not crazy. Mad. But I’m going to do you a favor and give you some good advice. Get a life, because it’s never gonna happen. Rich uses you like he uses everyone, and he'll dump you like he did me when he doesn't need you anymore. So I wouldn't put a deposit on that wedding dress just yet.”

Her face went ashen. I'd shocked her speechless. I actually felt a little ashamed but decided to take advantage of her temporary paralysis. I strode determinedly toward Rich's door.

“I’m going to make a call from this office. See that I’m not disturbed.”

I slammed the door behind me and locked it. There was dead silence in the other room. Either I’d caused a heart attack, or she was calling Gus. My money was on the latter, so my search time would be limited.

What first caught my eye nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. On the wall opposite Rich’s massive oak and ebony desk was a life-size photograph of Erica. I recognized it as a blowup of a lipstick ad she'd done when she worked for him as a model before she was promoted to marketing director. She was wearing a pink-flowered low-cut dress, her assets displayed as though she were selling her wares instead of the company’s. I had the chilling feeling those calculating ice-blue eyes were following me as I moved around the room.

I forced myself to focus on Rich's desk. Not one picture, not even of his children. It was clean except for a Lucite desk set. A Lucite desk set. What had become of the leather set Dot had given him for his birthday? I could imagine her reaction when she’d realized her gift had become a casualty of Erica-mania. Brushing past a white damask silk sofa--as out of place in an office as a polar bear in the tropics--I hurried to the desk and riffled through the top drawer. Business cards, some envelopes, pens, all what you’d expect. Quickly I searched the other drawers. Nothing helpful. I wondered if there was a safe. Where would Rich keep the company books? What should I look for if I found them?

About to close the bottom drawer, I noticed a jumble of keys crammed together at the rear. Scooping them up, I laid them out on the desk. Two I recognized as belonging to the Alpine house; most could have been to anything. But one was attached to a sterling silver key ring shaped like a heart and with the initials D.S. clearly engraved in the center.

Why would Rich have the keys to Dot's apartment? I would have expected him to have Erica’s keys, but Dot’s? Surely he wasn't involved in an intimate way with
her
? Not Rich, who hired and fired gorgeous models every day of the week. There could be a thousand other reasons why Rich would have Dot's keys. Like this was where she parked an extra set in case of emergency. Or maybe he'd stopped by to feed her cat when she went on vacation. Except I was pretty sure Dot didn't have a cat. I was nine hundred and ninety-nine reasons short, still working on it, when I heard the lock turning. I just had time to return all the keys but Dot's, which I dropped into my jacket pocket. The door swung open. I looked up into the dark-ringed, angry eyes of the stranger who used to be my beloved.

“WHAT’RE YOU DOING HERE?”

Every time I see Rich, I have to make a conscious effort to remember that we're no longer connected. He looked drained. I could tell he’d been drinking. His complexion was blotched and ruddy, and a toddler would have been steadier on his feet.

Rich is a big man, even-featured, broad-shouldered, with the beginnings of a middle-age paunch that he takes great pains to camouflage behind well-tailored clothing. Only those of us privileged to have viewed him in the buff (which, I was coming to believe had probably included a large percentage of the tri-state area’s female population) would be aware of it. It was a shock to see him unshaven, his usually well-styled thick black hair unkempt, his shirt-tail crumpled and hanging out of pants that looked like a dog had mistaken them for a chew toy. Chances were he had been wearing those clothes since Sunday morning. I hoped that was it, because even sober, Rich would be furious at finding me going through his things. Smashed, he might be—-really unpleasant.

I sidled around the desk, relieved he didn't seem to notice that I had taken over his chair. Some perverse piece of me, responding like Pavlov's dog to old conditioning, wanted to reach out and comfort him. Another piece ached to crawl into his arms and have my own fears lulled.

Old habits die hard.

“The kids,” I began. “They're scared, Rich. They need you. All this media attention has---”

“Come to gloat, have you?”

I drew back. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”

He pushed past me and flopped onto the sofa. “Come on, you hated her. You wanted her dead.”

“Apparently I wasn't the only one,” I protested, flushing. “Maybe you ought to be thinking about who else had reason to feel that way instead of attacking me.”

He buried his face in his hands, and his tone suddenly altered. “It's been awful, Carrie. You can't imagine. Finding her like that...” A shudder traveled through him, and he lifted his head and looked at me in a way that, in the old days, would have had me rubbing his back and serving up enormous portions of wifely sympathy. Oddly, I was moved even now. Seeing him hurting, vulnerable, brought memories of closer times flooding back.

“I know,” I murmured, patting his shoulder. “You must be---”

“Don't know how I'm going to manage without her.”

My hand stopped mid-pat as my sympathy evaporated like summer mist. I remembered his protestations of undying love to me. “You’re a survivor. You'll survive.”

He shook his head. “She was a marvel. Tough, mean when she had to be. Sales went through the ceiling after she took over.”

And it hit me. Rich hadn't left me for another woman, per se. He'd left me for a
business
woman who could send sales through the ceiling! Granted, one with undeniable physical attributes, but the bottom line was the bottom line with Rich, even where Erica was concerned.

“Bastard cops were grilling me this morning. Me, the bereaved, while I was trying to make funeral arrangements.”

“Maybe they think you can help.”

“No, no, I’m a suspect, can you believe it? Assholes kept on about her having other men.” He grabbed my arm. “I suppose they got that from you?”

I jerked away. “I'm afraid I wasn't privy to Erica's affairs.”

“She’d never have cheated on me.”

God, the ego.

He lurched to his feet. “I need a drink.”

I remembered the kids telling me he had a fully stocked paneled bar concealed someplace behind these sanitary walls. You pressed a button, and shazam! Like magic, a wall opened. I slid off the desk, blocking his path. “Don’t. You've got to keep a clear head.”

He pushed me out of the way and staggered toward the bathroom. “Gotta pee.”

I waited till I heard him splashing water on his face. “You sure there wasn’t anybody else?” I called out. “An old boyfriend, maybe? Somebody she jilted for you? Or somebody she annihilated at work, maybe? Like poor Herb Golinko? Whatever happened to him?”

A pause. I heard the water turned off.

“Dunno.”

“She ruined his career, and you let her. Hell, we both know she wasn’t Mother Teresa. Who had a grudge---?”

“Nobody, goddammit. Except you.”

“You think I did it?”

“Well, why...” He appeared in the doorway, stopped. “Oh, I get it. You’d be right up there with me on the cops’ list of most likely.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wasn’t even around over the weekend.”

“Where were you?”

I’m a lousy liar. I can never think fast enough. “The kids and I went with Meg for the weekend.”

“Meg was working. She didn’t leave until last night.”

Just for a second the room spun. “How’d you know that?”

“Allie told me. Why’d you lie?”

“When did you talk to Allie?”

“She called me before she left for school. Don’t change the subject.”

“Have you been seeing Meg?” I held my breath.

He stared at me blankly. If it was an act, it was a good one. “What’re you talking about?”

I exhaled, decided to believe him. “How about Dot?”

His timing was a little slower on that one.

“She’s my secretary, f'chrissake! You think I screw everything walks into the office?”

I bit off my retort.

He walked over to the desk, started pulling open drawers.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Aspirin. Head feels like it’s gonna explode.”

I pulled a two-pack out of my bag, tossed it at him. “Erica ever get any threatening calls?”

He ripped open the packet and swallowed the pills without water. “Will you give it a rest? I told you---”

“Someone hated her enough to kill her, Rich. You have to know it wasn’t me. And you know it wasn’t you. So we have two fewer on our list than the police. You’re probably the only one knows enough about her to put it together.”

“Don’t you think I’d’ve told the police if I had a clue?”

I tried shock treatment. “How much do you really know about her past? Those affairs the police were talking about? Everyone in the company knew she slept her way up from the factory foreman to you. Maybe somebody halfway up the ladder---”

That got him in his fat ego. “Shut up! Just shut up! The woman's dead. She’s dead, and you're still bad-mouthing her!”

I saw red. I
was
a woman scorned, and hell couldn’t come close to matching my fury. “You’re right!” I shouted. “I should be cursing you!”

“Who are you to play Miss Innocent?” he bellowed. “How can I be sure it wasn’t you killed her? You lied about being away. You call her a whore every damned chance you get. You said you’d see her dead and buried before you’d see us married!”

He hadn’t forgotten! I lost it completely then. “What’d you expect?” I yelled back. That I’d throw a party welcoming her into the family?”

He strode to the door. “I’m outta here. I don't need to listen to this crap.”

I grabbed his arm. “Oh, yes, you do! For once in your miserable, self-centered life, you’re going to listen. Because this time she damned well pissed off the wrong person. Somebody even tougher and meaner than she was, somebody who wasn’t going to take it. And for a change, this time the sky didn’t fall in on dumb little Henny-Penny. This time, it was her and you who paid the price!” I stopped, out of breath. And nerve.