Poisoned by Gilt (34 page)

Darren."

"You have hand grenades in your house?" Burke asked

Darren in alarm.

"Not any more. The police confiscated them after the

shooting. Walter Emory's, I mean. So I guess maybe

someone took one of my grenades at the same time they

stole my guns."

"Guns?" I repeated in alarm. "More than one was

stolen?"

"Aw, jeez," Burke moaned. "I moved out to the suburbs of Crestview for the quiet, peaceful lifestyle. Not for

the easy access to firearms and grenades!"

"Hey! It wasn't me who blew up your pond, buddy!"

"So you did know about the explosion," I said.

Darren winced, realizing his gaffe.

"Why did you lie about hearing the blast?" Sullivan

asked.

"I didn't want to get involved. It wasn't my fault someone broke into my home and took my personal property.

I'm not going to be made responsible. And . . . I didn't

want to ruin my chances with Ms. Munroe." He glared at

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me. "I knew you'd tell her about it being my grenade if I'd

charged over there while you were still at Burke's house."

"You even knew we were there when it exploded?"

Steve asked, balling his fists.

"Yeah. I came outside when Burke and Asia were

shouting back and forth."

"You figured nobody got killed, so you just went back

inside your house," Burke said with disgust.

"Which is no less than what you'd have done if our situations were reversed."

"Not true. I'd have run to the scene to see if you or

anyone else needed medical assistance," Burke retorted.

He returned his attention to Sullivan and me. "Thank

you for all the hard work you've put into my home. I appreciate it. I'm sorry that it's proven to be . . . gilding an

ice castle, but I appreciate it. I'm going home." He glared

at Darren. "Before it turns into a rotting toadstool."

"I'm sorry about how things turned out for you,

Burke," I said.

He mustered a smile, and Sullivan thanked him and

even shook his hand.

Unable to resist a moment longer, I glanced behind

me, but couldn't see Hands-on anywhere. Sullivan said,

"Jennifer Fairfax was in the area and dropped by. She said

to say hello."

"Oh? Did she leave already?" I tried to hide my glee.

"Yeah. She just wanted to wish us luck and took off

when Audrey made her announcement."

Darren, too, mumbled something about leaving and

started to shuffle off. He stopped and gazed into my eyes.

"Erin? There's really no reason for you to mention to

Audrey about it being my grenade that exploded near

you, is there?"

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"A reason? No, but we talk about almost everything, so

I wouldn't count on the subject not coming up."

"This is why I'm a confirmed bachelor." He stormed

away.

Steve grinned at me, and I said to him, "And speaking

for Audrey and all of womankind . . . what an excellent

decision on Mr. Campesio's part."

He chuckled and our gazes locked. I hesitated for just

an instant, but reasoned that we'd both narrowly missed

being injured or killed by a grenade today, and in comparison, how bad could a conversational bomb be? "As

long as we're on the topic of confirmed bachelors, are

you one?"

"A confirmed bachelor, you mean?" he asked, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

"That's right." I wasn't going to turn this into a joke

and let him get away with a nonanswer.

"No, Erin, I'm not." He brushed his fingertips down the

length of my arm and then took my hand in his. "In fact,

back before Richard was killed and everything went to--"

"Erin!" a woman behind me said.

Annoyed that we were being interrupted at such a

time, I whirled around. It was Margot. She looked ecstatic, crossing the floor toward me with her usual grand

composure and grace. Standing a short distance behind

her, Jeremy, on the other hand, looked decidedly

gloomy. I could see why--this was an enormous setback

for him, and might result in his having to shut the doors

of Greene Home Architecture.

"Hello, Steve."

"Congratulations, Margot," he said, and gave her a

peck on the cheek.

I took my cue from him and congratulated her, as

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well. She thanked us both, then said, "You were obviously deep in conversation. I'm so sorry to interrupt."

"That's all right, Margot," Steve said graciously. "Erin

and I can talk anytime."

Except that we never seem to actually do so.

"Erin, I just wanted to say how very grateful I am for

your contributions to my kitchen design. For all we

know, that's what made the difference in your own client

not winning."

"That and the crumbling foundation," I remarked.

"Oh, yes. Poor Jeremy." She glanced back at him, and

Jeremy quickly mustered a smile. He grabbed his cell phone

and began to talk into it, or at least, to pretend that he was.

He made what looked like a hasty apology to Margot, and

then left the room, still speaking into his phone.

"I'm giving him the proceeds from the contest to help

him stay afloat," Margot told me in conspiratorial tones,

"but there's only so much I can do. He's had nothing to do

with the design of my house." She sighed and searched my

features. "How's your investigation coming along, Erin?"

"You mean the police investigation into the murders?"

"Of course. Everyone knows you have a skill for solving these things. And now that I've won the contest and

the money, it's extra important to me that you succeed.

I'm surely next on the hit list."

"Hit list?"

"After Richard and Walter. Granted, they were judges,

not contestants, but maybe the link was their roles as

public figureheads for ecology. Now that my green home

has gotten such prestigious recognition, someone might

try to take me out of the limelight."

"I don't know what to say, Margot. I wish you could

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just be happy that you got this tremendous honor, which

you deserved."

"Life can be so unfair," she replied. "All you have to

do is think about poor Richard and Walter, if you have

any doubts about that."

"That's true," Steve said sadly.

She nodded. Her mood had darkened considerably,

and there were no vestiges of the confidence she'd exhibited as she crossed the floor just moments ago. "If I get

killed tomorrow, it'll be too late to worry. Or to ask you to

keep an eye out for me."

"That much I can do," I replied. "For whatever it's

worth."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. And congratulations again."

She grimaced a little and said again, "Thanks."

An Earth Love representative called for her to come

join him for some more interviews, and she plastered her

smile back into place as she joined a group of people

across the room.

At last, I was able to return my attention to Steve. He

appeared to be lost in thought. "You were saying?" I

asked gently.

"Hmm?" He looked at a spot behind me. I turned. My

heart sank. Jennifer Fairfax was still here, after all, apparently waiting for us to finish our conversation. She was

gazing at Steve with unabashed desire. No self-respecting

woman would be that publicly brazen with her emotions

if her affections were completely unrequited. I whirled

around and glared at him.

He averted his gaze. "I lost my train of thought completely. Sorry, Gilbert."

"No problem, Sullivan." I turned a little. Audrey was

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watching us, but she quickly looked away. "I need to go

thank Audrey. See you Monday."

I walked away without giving him much of a chance to

respond.

Audrey greeted me with a hug. "You look a little upset.

It isn't because of my decision, is it?"

"No, of course not. I'd have chosen Margot's house,

too. I just wanted to thank you for stepping in and saving

the day. I'm relieved this contest is over."

"I'm sure that's true for all of us. Well, not counting

Mr. Campesio and Dr. Stratton."

I glanced back at Margot, thinking that she, at least,

was not feeling especially relieved at the moment. I stiffened as I saw Sullivan heading toward me. I whirled

around to face Audrey once again. She caught my expression, looked behind him to where Hands-on was standing, and said, "Oh, now I get the picture."

"Good evening, Audrey," Sullivan said, exuding charm.

"Hello, Mr. Sullivan," she replied coldly.

"Steve," he corrected, sounding both hurt and surprised. "I wanted to thank you before I left."

"There's no need, Mr. Sullivan. And I'm leaving, too.

Time, as they say, flies. Next thing you know, it's later than

you think." She grabbed my arm. "Let's go home, Erin."

She narrowed her eyes at Sullivan. "Nobody appreciates

stragglers."

At nine o'clock Monday morning, Margot was waiting

by our office door. Surprised, I greeted her and asked if

everything was all right.

"Can I come in?"

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"Of course," I said, unlocking the door and holding it

for her. "Can I take your coat?"

She ignored the question and began to pace while I

flipped on our lights and hung up my own coat. "They're

trying to ruin me," Margot said. "I should have known

this would happen."

"Who is?"

"The press. The public. It's all your client's fault."

"Do you mean Burke?"

"Who else? He's the only one with enough of a grudge

to tell the media. They must have interviewed him. This

morning's paper said they got the information from 'unnamed sources.' I won that contest fair and square. My

choice of modes for transportation has nothing to do with

my house."

"True. Although all I've ever seen you drive is that

SUV-style hybrid. Doesn't everyone know it gets excellent gas mileage? For an SUV?"

"My car isn't the problem. It's my plane. I have my

own private jet for when I travel. And Burke's the only

person I can think of who knows I have a private jet and

who would have been all too happy to blab about it.

Haven't you read this morning's newspaper?"

I sat down at my desk. Margot continued to pace.

There was no point in suggesting Margot have a seat;

she'd sit if she wanted to. "Not yet. I take it they disclosed

that you had a private jet in the article?"

"Worse. In a sidebar. Sidebars are the only part of a

newspaper story that actually get read." She sank into the

Sheraton chair in front of me. "The headline of the side

story was: 'How Green Is Hypocrisy?' "

"Ouch. How often do you use your plane?"

"Why?"

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"Just curious."

"Every couple of weeks. I enjoy the occasional foray to

my condo in Telluride."

"I didn't know you had a second home."

"I do. I keep thinking of hiring you and Mr. Sullivan

to redecorate the place. The original owner had it covered in monkeys."

"Monkeys?"

"Everywhere you look. The wallpaper, the artwork,

the bric-a-brac. It's tasteful enough, I suppose. If you like

monkeys."

"Would our transportation be provided?" I couldn't

help but ask.

"In my jet, you mean, obviously. I don't suppose you

meant my paying for your gas for you to drive the eight

hours each way. Even though a car ride causes less than a

tenth of the carbon emissions of a flight. See how easy it

is to compromise one's ideals?" She sighed. "I give huge

amounts of money to environmental causes. I don't even

get to declare that as a tax deduction, because saving the

earth is considered political, or some such nonsense. You

don't see the Crestview Sentinel doing a sidebar on my

donations, though, do you?"

"No."

"Well, of course you don't. Since you didn't see the

original story either."

"I'd be happy to discuss getting rid of your monkeys

with Steve, if you'd like." Now there was a sentence I

never could have imagined myself saying.

"Yes, I would. Thank you." She rose. "Although I am

just not making that drive twice a month. So we may

need to wait to see if I get so much flack about my jet that

I'll want to sell my monkey depository."

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"Cheer up, Margot. You won a contest that you deserved to win, and you worked hard for the honor."

"And I lost my boyfriend."

"You and Jeremy broke up?"

She nodded. "He came over to my house yesterday.

He said our lives were heading in such opposite directions, he just couldn't take it anymore. That he wanted to

be the one I could look up to for a change. So he had a

lot of rebuilding to do."

"Maybe he means that."

"And maybe my monkeys will fly me to and from

Telluride," she grumbled as she let herself out my door.

"On the bright side," I called after her, "you're no

longer going to be the queen of ecology. So that will keep