The Scent of Lies: A Paradise Valley Mystery (8 page)

* * *

Emily spent the next few hours packing and thinking. With each item of clothing she folded into a box, she thought about a time when Evan wore it during the life they had together.

Was it all a lie? Had he really loved her? “Who were you, Evan? Or should I say Michael or Alexi...maybe just Sean?”

She interrogated him, as if he were there. “What were you into? Why are there passports and cash hidden away? What about the gun—did you kill someone with it? Is that why you’re hiding it?”

She shouted and screamed at him through her fountain of tears. She pulled everything off the shelves and threw his things across the closet and into the bedroom. She pulled every piece of clothing and every hanger down from the rod and pitched them on the floor. “Damn you, Evan Parker! Was our whole marriage one big lie?”

Finally falling, exhausted, into a crumpled heap on the cluttered closet floor, she sobbed loud, gut-wrenching sobs until she was worn out and no more tears would come.

As much as she hated to disappoint her good friends, putting on a happy face and being around a host of people was the last thing Emily wanted to do, so she phoned Isabel to cancel on her and Alex for the following evening. She hoped they would understand.

“What’s wrong?” Isabel asked.

Emily told her about finding the key hidden in Evan’s side of the closet and some of what she’d found in the safe deposit box. She just wasn’t up to being around anyone else for a while after the shock and disappointment she’d experienced.

“Oh, my gosh, Em. Passports, a hidden gun. I’m just, well...dumbfounded. I can understand why you’d be in shock, but now is not the time to be alone.” Isabel tried hard to convince her that being with friends would be the best thing for her.

“The whole gang will be here. Maggie is even bringing a date. Please come, Em.”

“Then I’ll be the only single person, the pitiful lonely widow.”

“Don’t be like that. We’ve tried fixing you up, but you said you didn’t want it, you weren’t ready.”

“That’s true, I wasn’t. But things have changed, Isabel, and I’ve decided you guys were right—it’s time to move on. I spent the afternoon packing up Evan’s clothes, and I’m making room for new things in my life.”

“Then come tomorrow night. We’d all love to see you.”

Chapter 7

Emily showed up for the barbecue after having stopped at the store to pick up a dozen cupcakes as her contribution to the dinner. Everyone but Maggie and her date were already there when Emily came through the door. She could hear chatter coming from the kitchen, and she followed the voices to the rear of the house.

“Hey, Emily!” Camille exclaimed with delight, taking the box of cupcakes out of her hands. Emily put her arm around Camille’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.

“Hi, Isabel,” Emily greeted, giving Isabel a hug as well.

“Maggie is on her way,” Isabel said, “but she’s coming solo. I guess her date flaked out on her, some lame excuse, she said. So we’ll need to cheer her up, I’m sure.”

“Where are the guys?” Emily asked.

“They’re out on the patio, talking and barbecuing,” Camille replied. “Oh, and there’s another guest. He’s out there with Alex and Jonathan.”

“Who is it?” Emily asked, peeking out the window to see the mystery guest.

Isabel and Camille looked at each other like they were up to some mischief. Not far from the window, she saw the back of a tall, well-built man with short dark hair. He must have felt the heat of her stare on him, because he turned and looked directly at her with his smoky hazel eyes.

She was embarrassed she’d been caught staring and stepped back from the window, but he was so handsome she had a hard time looking away.

“Who is that?” Emily asked.

“That’s the new police detective. Remember I mentioned him to you when you were here last,” Isabel said.

“Well, you said we were getting a new detective, but I don’t remember you saying he was young and good looking.”

Camille and Isabel looked at each other again and smiled.

“Oh yes I did. You just weren’t ready to hear it. His name is Colin Andrews and he’s just moved here from San Francisco,” Isabel reported.

“With that kind of experience, coming from a big crime-ridden city I mean, he should be able to handle anything that happens in quiet little Paradise Valley,” Camille noted.

“Did you know he was coming when I called you yesterday?” Emily asked Isabel.

“Yes, but I didn’t want to tell you. I was afraid you might not come if you thought we were trying to set you up again.”

“You’re probably right.”

The atrium door to the patio opened and Alex and Jonathan walked in, holding big platters of grilled meats, with Colin following behind them.

“Where would you like this meat, hon?” Jonathan asked his wife, Camille.

“Set it right down there on the island. I’ve got the sides laid out over here.”

“Looks delicious as usual, Red,” Jonathan said, setting his overflowing platter down. He came up behind Camille, put his arms around her waist, and gave her a quick kiss on her neck.

“Jonathan, not in front of the children,” Camille joked.

“How long before Maggie gets here?” Alex asked. “The meat is going to get cold.”

“Here, let me cover it with foil to keep it warm. If she’s not here in ten minutes, we’ll start without her, okay?” Isabel said.

“Besides, she eats like a bird anyway. I’m sure they’ll be plenty left for her if we start without her,” Jonathan pointed out.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Isabel asked. “Colin, you haven’t met our friend, Emily, yet.”

Colin stepped up and put out his hand. “Hello, Emily, I’m Colin Andrews.” His voice was strong, but his hand was gentle as he shook hers. When she felt a tingle go up her arm, she pulled her hand back, flashing him a nervous smile.

“Can’t we eat, Isabel?” her husband asked. “I’m starving. Maggie can eat when she gets here.”

“All right. Everyone grab a plate and serve yourselves, buffet style,” Isabel directed.

Isabel and Camille corralled Emily and Colin and made sure they sat together around the expansive table in the dining room, encouraging conversation between them. Emily noticed her girlfriends kept looking at each other and grinning, obviously pleased with themselves.

“So, Colin,” Emily jumped in first, “tell me about yourself. I hear you recently moved to Paradise Valley from San Francisco.”

“That’s right. I was just hired as the new police detective. I had heard the old guy wanted to retire, so I put my name in the hat and they chose me. It doesn’t usually work that way, but the police chief wanted someone with experience. He said Paradise Valley is such a quiet place none of his officers had experience investigating the big stuff.”

“Huge change from San Francisco, I’m guessing,” she said, wondering what San Francisco would be like—the Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman’s Wharf, Golden Gate Park, Ghirardelli Square, the cable cars. She always wanted to visit the city by the bay.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty big culture shock, but I was ready for a change.”

“Really? Why is that?” Emily was getting lost in his sexy hazel eyes and dark lashes.

“Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you about it another time. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Well, I hope you like our valley. We have a lot to do here.”

“You’ll have to show me some of the sights sometime,” he said between bites. “So, tell me, what do you do Emily?”

“Well, I was a real estate agent, but I am currently transitioning into being a private investigator.”

He nearly choked, coughing and sputtering. He grabbed his glass of iced tea and took a couple of gulps.

“Did something go down the wrong way?” she asked.

“You could say that,” Colin replied, coughing a few more times. “You said you’re transitioning into being a private investigator?”

“Yes...why?” She thought she had been perfectly clear in what she said.

“Well, you can’t just be a real estate agent one day and decide to be an investigator the next.”

She bristled at his comment. He didn’t know her or her life, yet he seemed to feel free to give his opinion. She didn’t care how handsome he was, his words were so condescending she had to get away from him before she told him what she honestly thought.

“I think I need another drink,” she said curtly, picking up her plate and glass and dashing to the kitchen. She hoped Colin would pick up on the fact she took her plate too, a sign she had no intention of coming back. Camille and Isabel scurried after her.

* * *

Delia ate her supper alone and when she was finished, she took her dish to the sink.

“Thank you, Marcela. That was delicious.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Delia,” the young housekeeper answered. “I’ll clean up the kitchen then I’ll be in my room.”

Marcela was a young Latina woman with big brown eyes and dark hair that she always wore up in a tight bun, along with her blue-gray skirted uniform, when she was at work. Her mother had been Delia’s housekeeper for several years until she was diagnosed with breast cancer. When she could no longer work, Marcela had asked if she could take her mother’s place. After her mother died, Marcela moved in with Delia and Ricardo and became their live-in housekeeper and cook.

“You don’t happen to know when my husband will be back, do you?”

“No, ma’am,” Marcela replied, rinsing the dishes in the sink and then loading the dishwasher.

“I think I’ll go upstairs and take a hot bath. A good long soak will do me good. I’ll see you in the morning, Marcela.”

“Good night.”

Delia left the housekeeper to finish up in the kitchen and went to the front entry hall where the staircase led to the second floor. As she began to climb the stairs, the front door opened and Ricardo walked in. He had parked in the front crescent-shaped driveway instead of putting his car in the garage, so she assumed he planned to leave again.

“Hello, Ricardo. You missed dinner, again.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, my interviews ran late.” He closed the door.

“On a Sunday afternoon?”

“Yes,” he answered defiantly.

“What interviews?”

“I’ve decided I need an assistant.”

“Blonde or brunette?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“What are you talking about?” He was playing innocent, as if he didn’t understand.

“Don’t you think you should have discussed it with me first? I am the boss.”

“Not for long, my dear,” he mumbled as he turned away.

“What was
that
?” she asked pointedly.

“I said you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

Delia didn’t want to argue with him, so she let the comment go, for now. Marcela was probably still tidying up in the kitchen and might overhear them. “I’m too tired to fight. I’m going upstairs to soak in the tub and put on some soothing music. We’ll finish this discussion later.” She dismissed him with a wave and climbed the rest of the stairs. Delia went into her bathroom and closed the door, hoping to relax and escape from her troubles for a while.

* * *

Ricardo went into the dark living room and turned a lamp on, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie as he sat down on the sofa. The phone in his pocket began to vibrate.

“Hello.”

“Ricardo.”

“Anna, you shouldn’t—”
 
He shot up to his feet. “You know better than to call me here.”

“I know you don’t like me calling this number, but I
have
to see you.”

“You couldn’t have called at a worse time.” He walked over to the foyer and glanced up the stairs to make sure Delia was not within earshot. “Please, Anna, don’t call me here. You’re going to mess up everything.”

“I need to talk to you, Ric, I’m desperate.”

“Where are you?” he asked. “I can meet you somewhere later tonight.”

“Just a couple of blocks away.”

“All right, if you come quickly, we can talk for a few minutes, I guess. Delia’s upstairs taking a bath, so she’ll be awhile, but she can’t see you. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, I understand. I’ll be there shortly.”

Ricardo paced while he waited for her, only stopping to dry his palms on his pant legs. There was just a small window of time to talk, otherwise all hell would break loose. A couple of minutes later there was a knock at the door. Marcela came running to answer it.

“I’ll get the door. I’m expecting someone from work.”

“Okay, I’ll be in my room then,” the housekeeper said.

After he watched and made sure Marcela had disappeared down the hallway, he opened the door and let Anna in.

“Oh, Ricardo.” She threw her arms around his neck.

He stopped her and pulled them down to her side, noticing she had been crying. Her eyes were red and her runny eye makeup had left dark smudges below her lower lashes. “You need to make this quick. Delia can’t find you here.”