Bonefire of the Vanities (33 page)

Oscar joined us. He’d been called to the Westins’ inner sanctum. “Brandy has informed me we’re not wanted here,” Oscar said. “She’s ordered us all to leave. Immediately.”

“There may be a killer on the loose,” I protested. Brandy’s actions made no sense. “We can’t leave. At least not until Coleman gets here. The other guests could be in danger.”

“Brandy and Sherry are locked on the third floor with all sorts of electronic security.” Oscar ticked off the reasons. “The other guests are supposed to be locked in their rooms. The help has been ordered to their rooms in the bunkhouse, with the exception of the guards, who are all on alert. She claims they’re perfectly safe and we are the only danger.”

“Yumi could be anywhere on the premises. If she is the killer, what’s to stop her from striking again?”

“Motive,” Tinkie said. “She killed Amanda because Amanda found out what Yumi was. Remember the video on Amanda’s phone. She had evidence of Yumi talking to Lucas Faver, only we didn’t put it together at the time. Yumi had been paid to kill Amaryllis. And she killed Lola, thinking she was her designated target, Amaryllis. If Amaryllis has skipped out, there’s no reason for Yumi to stay. She’s probably on the dance teacher’s tail. Yumi didn’t strike me as someone who gave up easily.”

Justice had not been served in my book. Two women were dead and the killer was still in the wind.

“We have no authority to stay here,” Oscar said. “I hate to leave like this, but we don’t have a choice. Your work with Marjorie is finished. She’s safely gone and reuniting with her son.”

Oscar’s sensible approach left me uneasy. “We’ll leave when Coleman gets here. Shouldn’t we warn Gretchen and Shimmer? We can’t just waltz out of here.”

“Graf and Oscar alerted them both and offered to take them with us. They refused. Let’s pack our things,” Tinkie said. “It won’t take long. Maybe Coleman will arrive before we’re loaded.”

Graf’s warm embrace took away some of the sting, but I’d never left a case half solved. Sure, finding a killer wasn’t what I’d been hired to do, but we were in the middle of it. It felt wrong not to finish.

“I’ll get our clothes from the bunkhouse,” Tinkie offered. “Oscar will go with me to protect me.” She batted her lashes while her hands circled his arm. “He’ll make sure no one bothers me.”

Clever girl. I wished I could emulate her, but it wasn’t who I was. “I’ll check upstairs. Graf, would you bring the cars around front so we can load?”

“Anything for my fiancée.” He kissed my forehead.

So it was done. We dispersed and went about our separate chores. Except I couldn’t give up that easily. Before I left, I had to search the rooms where Palk and Yumi stayed. I didn’t expect to find the Korean chef, but I might find evidence. It wasn’t in me to quit without trying.

While padding softly down the carpeted hallway, I heard steps behind me. I caught the scent of rain, even though I was indoors and the weather outside was hot, humid, and rain-free. I turned to see a shapely silhouette in a trench coat. Beautiful waves of light brown hair fell below the brim of a hat that shadowed her face.

I was on to Jitty now. I knew exactly who she was. She’d abducted the character created by Sara Paretsky, V. I. Warshawski. “Sometimes the shit comes down so hard, you have to wear a hat,” I said wittily, quoting a line from one of her movies.

“Don’t ever go on
Jeopardy!,
Sarah Booth. Right actress, wrong movie. That was
Body Heat.
” Jitty glided forward, her hands tucked in the pockets of her coat. “A dame has to be careful in these halls. Chicago’s a tough town, but Heart’s Desire has more murders per capita,” she said. “No telling who, or what, you might run up against in this dump.”

Despite Jitty’s penchant for provoking, she worked on me like quinine on malaria. One mention of the possibility of danger, and I spun in all directions, positive I would come face-to-face with a killer.

The hallway was empty.

“What are you doing creeping around the staff’s quarters?” she asked. “This place smells like sex.”

The remark threw me completely off my investigative stride. I took a deep breath and several short sniffs. “What do you mean, it smells like sex?”

She gave me a glare from under the brim of the hat. “You know, funky, sweaty sex. Somebody’s been having a marathon down here.”

“How can you tell? I can’t smell anything except carpet cleaner and wood wax.”

“You’ve been working as a maid too long. Snatch the dust mop out of your nostrils and take a whiff. Or better yet, climb those stairs to Hollywood Handsome’s bedroom and practice exchanging bodily fluids with that man before your eggs rot and crack open.”

“That image really makes me want to get carnal with Graf.” Just when I thought she’d given up on haranguing me about my ticking biological clock, she body-slammed me again. “I still don’t smell anything.”

She waved aside my objections. “I asked you what you’re doing down here.”

“Investigating.”

“I would have said snooping.”

“Have it your way. I’m snooping. I want to search Palk’s and Yumi’s digs. Palk’s marshaling the guards, but he’s been gone a long time. I consider him MIA. Yumi may have eaten him, or he may have hooked up with her. What are you doing here?”

“The same.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’ve come to help?”

“Don’t act so shocked. I’m worried about the home-wrecker. And where the heck is Roger Addleson?”

That couldn’t be good. Did Jitty have inside info? “Is Amaryllis alive?”

Jitty shrugged. “I don’t always get the full details.”

Great. A half-informed ghost who was wasting my time sniffing in empty corridors. “I have to get busy.” I continued down the hall to Palk’s door. His cracked door. Curiosity got the better of me, and I pushed it wider with my toe. What would Palk’s lair contain? Leather masks, chains, manacles?

“Don’t leave any fingerprints, Sarah Booth. If it’s a crime scene, you don’t want to implicate yourself.”

“Palk’s perversions may be creepy, but they aren’t a crime.” I inched inside. “But I might find evidence that is.”

“Listen.”

Jitty’s whisper brushed like a spiderweb against my face. An erratic thumping came to me. “What’s that?”

I turned for her response, but Jitty was gone. Damn it. She wasn’t any kind of crime-solving partner. One minute she was helping; the next she’d flown the coop. I was on my own in Palk’s apartment. His
dark
apartment. His apartment that
did
smell of sex.

“Eeeewwww.” I pushed those images out of my brain and got busy.

The thumping came again from an interior room. I had two options. I could use the flashlight, which might give away my position, or I could turn on some lights. That, too, would reveal my presence, but it would also allow me to see the landscape.

I found a light switch, pushed it up, and dived against the wall. Light flooded the tastefully decorated apartment. Antiques, leather-bound books, a stereo system that was on but silent, several well-tended plants, lovely ceramics on the mantel, and Victorian prints hanging on the walls. The décor spoke of an established home and a person who selected his possessions with great care.

Not a single trace of a hockey mask–wearing cross-dresser who liked stockings and women with whips.

The thumping resumed, this time with more urgency. It was almost like a code. Was it an SOS? Was it Amaryllis?

I turned down a narrow hallway and silently made my way to a closed door. I wasn’t an idiot—it crossed my mind I’d stumbled into a setup. I hesitated. The bumping thudded again, combined with someone trying to yell. Someone gagged.

I kicked the door and rolled into the room, gaining my feet with the flashlight swinging. The narrow beam captured Palk, trussed like Tom Turkey awaiting the axe and chopping block. “Saint Sebastian jumping hurdles!”

Palk’s face was so red, I thought his head might pop like a zit. He thudded his feet and tried to scream at me, but a ball gag stifled him. His hands and legs were bound with bungee cords.

I removed the gag and gave him a minute to catch his breath. I didn’t doubt that Yumi had once again hornswoggled the butler, and she could still be in his apartment. I remained alert, but I couldn’t resist tormenting him. “Another case of sex gone bad? Forgot your safe word, did you?”

“That bitch! She knocked me out. I decided to search her rooms. I thought she’d taken a runner, escaped. I didn’t hear her. She’s only been gone ten minutes. Untie me, quick.”

Palk’s words galvanized me to action. I managed to unhook the bungee cords, and he scrambled to his feet. “Let’s find Yumi before she harms anyone else.” My fiancé and friends could be her next victims.

“She’s like some martial arts expert. She kicked me in the back of the knees and then clobbered me with a statue. I’ve never seen anything like her except in a movie. She’s been skillfully trained.” He picked up a bronze statue from the floor.

A rendering of Venus, goddess of love. A bit of irony.

Palk grasped my arm. “She’s going to dice Amaryllis like an onion if we don’t find her fast.”

Palk and I tore out of his apartment and searched the remaining rooms. Yumi’s bedroom was enough to make anyone suspicious. Her closet contained only generic black slacks and black tops. In four shoeboxes we found an arsenal of handguns and knives. A crossbow was propped against the back wall of her closet.

“What? She thinks she’s Robin Hood?”

“She thinks she’s going to kill Amaryllis and then flee the country. She already has a passport in another name and citizenship papers for Argentina. I found them, too.”

Palk yanked empty drawers from her dresser. It was evident she viewed her stay at Heart’s Desire as temporary.

“She took the keys to my car. I suspect she’s managed to get out of Heart’s Desire, but I’ll question the guards at the gate to be sure. Yumi destroyed the radio transmitter we used to speak with the main gate, and the telephone line. I’ll have to walk there. Working here, spending time with me, she learned how everything functions at Heart’s Desire. I betrayed the Westins, and she betrayed me.”

I couldn’t believe it, but I felt sorry for Palk. Even ogres suffered when betrayed.

I called Coleman and got his voice mail. All I could do was leave a message, but I made it urgent. We needed the firm hand of the law to help us find and contain Yumi.

Yumi’s apartment yielded nothing else. I returned to the foyer, where the others waited.

“Palk is fairly certain Yumi has gone after Amaryllis, but we have to tell the Westins she may still be in the house,” I said. “I’ve called Coleman and left a message.”

“We have news, too,” Tinkie said. “We found Roger Addleson hiding out in our room. He’s upstairs with Shimmer right now. I hope he survives the encounter. She is furious. He admitted to paying Stella, the laundress, ten grand to drive Amaryllis out in her trunk. That’s how she got past the guards.”

“I hope she has a fighting chance to get away from Yumi.” I didn’t like the odds.

Tinkie crossed her arms. “We don’t know that Yumi has left Heart’s Desire, and we can’t leave with a chance the killer is hiding in the compound.”

“It wouldn’t matter if we told the Westins that Jack the Ripper was walking the parapets, they aren’t going to do anything but barricade their rooms.” Oscar was adamant. “We should get out of here before we get hurt.”

“If Sherry were any kind of medium, she’d know where to find Yumi
and
Amaryllis,” Tinkie said.

“She’s a medium, not a psychic.” It really wasn’t worth pointing out the difference.

“Sarah Booth and I will make one last attempt to try to talk to them,” Graf said as he linked arms with me. “Then we’re out of here. No second thoughts, no looking back.”

My stomach dropped to my feet. “Pluto!” I’d forgotten all about the cat.

“What about Palk?” Oscar asked unhappily. “Shouldn’t we be sure he’s safe?”

Graf hesitated, and I made a decision. “Graf, you talk with the Westins. They like you, anyway, and they hate me. I’ll find Pluto and put him in his carrier. Oscar, you and Tinkie stay together and check for Palk at the gate. Graf and I can each drive a car and meet you there.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Graf put action to words as he passed me, fingers trailing through one of my curls. “Grab the cat. We’ll be on the road to Zinnia in five minutes. I think we’ll hit Millie’s for some late-night breakfast, and then I have plans for you that require a bed, privacy, and my imagination.”

I’d shared more than a few of Graf’s imaginative encounters. “Will it involve warmed oil, the ceiling fan cooling my skin, and your hands touching my body?”

“That and so much more.”

I sprinted to Marjorie’s old suite. I couldn’t help but feel bad for Pluto. I wondered if he’d realize he’d been cast aside. I’d do my best to make him feel loved until Tinkie and I could find a new home for him. Right now, though, I wanted to put him in the carrier and haul him down to the front door.

“Kitty, kitty,” I called softly. Pluto was rather slippery for such a large kitty. If he got the chance to dart out the door, it might take hours to catch him.

There was no sign of Pluto in the room. Normally he was stretched across my clothes, but every flat surface in the room was bare. I poked in the closet, empty now without Marjorie’s abundant wardrobe. Nothing.

I checked under the bed and chaise and other furniture, and finally in the bathroom. Not even a wisp of kitty hair. The damn cat had vanished.

“Pluto.” I used my flashlight to check all of the corners. He had to be there. When I got down on my hands and knees to probe under the vanity, I saw the open vent. Somehow, Pluto had gotten the ornate screen off—again—and was now loose in the vent works. Ernest Angley with a hula hoop. I’d screwed that vent in myself. It had been tight!

“Dammit, Pluto.” I had no clue where the cat might end up. He could get lost wandering through the internal structure of the house. If his luck didn’t hold, he might jump out where Yumi could get him.

The last time he’d gotten in the vent, he came out in the Lotus Suite. I would work my way down the suites. Chasley’s old room was next door, and I started there. Since he’d left with his mother, the room was empty. I scurried inside. I reached for the light switch and felt something hot strike my arm. “Shit.” No time for inventive cursing when my arm was on fire.