Death Loved A Woman (Happy Holloway Mystery Book 2) (6 page)

“
L
iterally
?”

“Probably.” Both ladies laughed. “No, she’s cold-hearted, and the only one she loves is Mark.”

“But he’s not her son.”

“Maybe love is too much.
Like
might be a better description. He’s similar to her in personality, manipulative and conniving. I think she’d love it if he were her blood son and not Wesley. She and Mark were always closer, or that’s the way it looked to me. Plus, her mother left her money to Wesley and skipped right over her own daughter. Racine has to depend on Mr. Witman for everything.”

Annie tried to digest what Jamie told her, but it was hard to believe Racine would prefer her stepson to her actual son. Of course, she could see the woman might wish her son were of a stronger nature, but any more than that was unthinkable.

Could Racine have resented Wesley enough to kill him? Even if she did, why wait? Her mother died six years ago. Then she remembered. The money wouldn’t go to Wesley until he turned thirty or he got married. He was in no danger of marrying until he started seeing Barbara Jean, who would get him to the altar one way or another.

Omen at last reached them, and the three dropped the subject. Annie’s date brought over the older man, and she thought it amusing that the two of them appeared to be opposites but alike.

The old man was as round as Omen was long and thin. Neither of their suits fit well, and the two seemed completely unaware of it.

“Daddy, this party is duller than I thought it would be,” Jamie said, wrapping an arm about the older man’s shoulders. “I’m thinking about skipping out for the rest of the night.”

Daddy? So this was Mr. Witman’s attorney. The man’s face reddened, and he produced a handkerchief to mop his neck and head. Now that he drew closer, Annie saw that his head was wet from sweat. Did he need a three-piece suit in mild North Carolina fall weather, or at a party for that matter?

“We’ve only just got here, Jamie, and I never get to see you,” the old man whined. “Stay a while. You’re always gallivanting about.”

“I don’t gallivant.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but you have to make it up to me. Shopping tomorrow should do it.”

The older man sighed. “I’m not made of money, Jamie. You have to live within your means.”

She grumbled. “You work for Mr. Witman. If he doesn’t pay you enough, ask for a raise.”

Longsuffering eyes swung to Annie, and she thought he was asking her to rescue him from a daughter who threatened to make him bankrupt. She had no such experience, so she couldn’t help.

“How are you, sir?” She offered friendship instead. “I’m Annie Holloway. I just met your daughter and her friend. I’m…” For the life of Annie, she couldn’t bring herself to say she was an international model in front of these beauties, even a plus size one. “I’m a friend of Flynn’s.”

“You’re friends with Flynn?” Connie demanded. She latched onto Annie, and Jamie took the other side. “I’ve been trying to get him to look my way forever. Is he coming tonight, do you think?”

“I…” Annie began.

“Enough, Jamie, Connie,” the attorney demanded. “Let the woman breathe. You both have enough young men hanging around you. Annie, I’m Percy Kelley, this one’s father as you probably have figured out.”

He held out his hand, but thank goodness the girls gripped Annie’s arms. After a moment, he mopped his head again. Annie swallowed a few times.

“Hello, ladies, I’m Omen Nobleton.” Omen smiled, but Annie thought it appeared more ominous than anything. He still fit her ideal for a serial killer, and Jamie’s slight tremor at her side concurred.

The woman surprised Annie when she released her and moved to Omen’s side. “Oh, you’re interesting. Come talk to Connie and me. So what do you do for a living?”

Annie coughed and muttered, “Hinkle.”

Omen winked, and the three of them moved off together.

“Young people.” Kelley sighed. “They take the energy out of me, and as much as I want to give my daughter the world, I can’t afford it.”

“She seems to be happy and intelligent.”

“She’s brilliant,” Kelley corrected, “but she has no ambition. All she wants to do is try to keep up with the Joneses as it were. You’ve heard the old expression?”

Annie had, and she told him so.

“Money isn’t everything. Look at what happened to the Witmans’ son. It can get one into terrible trouble.”

“Or love.” The old man seemed to enjoy contradicting everything she said. She wondered if he did it with everyone. “Love can get a man in trouble.”

“Has it ever gotten you into trouble?”

“That remains to be seen.” He stared after his daughter, and Annie laughed.

“You mean she hasn’t gotten you into too much trouble yet.”

“She’s gotten me into a number of pickles.” He tapped his temple. “I’m clever enough to get myself out of them. That’s why Mr. Witman trusts me. I’ve rescued him a time or two as well.”

A bragger, huh? Annie chewed on her bottom lip. A waiter happened by and held out a tray of fresh crab puffs. Annie dove at them and gestured to Kelley. He drew back as if repulsed. “They don’t agree with me.”

Annie shrugged, and grabbed another for good measure. When she had enjoyed two, she got back to the conversation.

“So you’ve rescued Mr. Witman. Does that include his family? Everyone’s speculating on Barbara Jean Stanford wanting Wesley for his money. If they were married—”

“They weren’t! I made sure of that myself.”

Annie started at the vehemence.

He scowled and then glanced at Annie before his face turned red. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. I checked.”

“Checked what?”

He hesitated. “I don’t share attorney client privileged information. I take my job very seriously. Then again, I don’t want you leaving here and thinking I was saying something I didn’t intend. All I need is the police thinking I got my hands dirty with some silly business. No!”

He rambled. Annie questioned if it might be time for him to retire.

“I checked the county register. There’s no record of Wesley and Barbara Jean being married, so that’s that.”

“I’m not so sure. Barbara Jean says they were married three days before he died. It’s possible she just didn’t have time to file the license. Or her minister didn’t.”

Kelley shook his head, but he watched Jamie as she focused on something Omen told her. Connie responded to him more often, while Jamie listened.

“No, the license would have turned up before now if it ever happened,” Kelley said. “I’ve only met that young woman once or twice, but she didn’t come across as very bright. I dare say she thought she could get away with just saying she married Wesley, and that would be enough.”

“No one’s that naive.”

“You’re wrong,” he snapped.

Annie waited for him to elaborate, but he excused himself and moved away. She wandered around the room some more, trying to pick up bits of conversation. Many guests mentioned Wesley once or twice, but most were more interested with their own concerns.

Annie decided to leave the main room and wander around a bit. Guests crowded what looked like a ballroom, complete with space cleared for dancing. One couple took advantage of it. Others stood in groups of three or more, chatting. Some debated loudly, and a few discussed topics in a more sedate manner.

Waiters moved among the crowd with silver trays held aloft. Their stiff posture and crisp burgundy and black uniforms impressed Annie. As one passed by, she grabbed a glass of champagne to wash down the puffs.

In the main hall, she came into view of the winding stairs to the upper floor as well as the front door. She halted when the butler opened the door to Flynn, and on his arm was a very sexy Barbara Jean.

“Wow, he’s bold,” someone said at Annie’s elbow. She didn’t look to see who spoke, but she felt the same.

“Flynn, how dare you bring that woman into my house?” Racine shouted.

Annie glanced over her shoulder at the stairs. Racine stood at the top, glaring down at the two of them like the queen mother. She descended the stairs one step at a time, and Flynn stood in the entryway with his feet planted and slightly apart.

Aside from Flynn’s attitude of readying himself for war, Annie noted the dark suit that fit well over his broad shoulders. He had shaved since last she saw him, and his hair lay in perfect order yet with a windswept appearance.

Barbara Jean flipped her long hair over her shoulder and raised her chin with angry eyes snapping at Racine. “I want to know what happened to my husband! One of you killed him, and I’m going to find out who.”

Flynn frowned at her. “BJ, you don’t walk in accusing anyone.”

Annie sipped her champagne. Flynn’s gaze flitted over the gathering crowd and settled on her. His eyebrows rose, and she grinned at him, raising her glass.

Omen squeezed through the crowd to stand beside her. “Is he nuts bringing her here?”

“I think so,” Annie said.

Flynn looked at Omen and then back at Annie. She saw the question. Was Omen her date? Annie gave no indication of the answer by her expression. At least she hoped she didn’t. She was, after all, a famous personality used to these types of events. She almost laughed at the joke and stepped back to allow the crowd to squeeze in and take her place.

A fun but risky idea popped into her head. Maybe it was the international model persona morphing into international spy that gave her the notion. With the buzz around Flynn and Barbara Jean, perhaps she could do some exploring.

She slipped farther back in the hall and turned a corner. Just as she suspected, there was another set of stairs at the rear of the house.

“Flynn’s here,” a guest called to another.

“He brought Barbara Jean,” someone else said.

“Did Racine throw them out yet?”

“Get out of the way. I want to see!”

Annie hugged the wall to avoid the mad rush. With a furtive glance over her shoulder, she checked to see that the coast was clear and climbed the stairs. On the second floor of what could easily be termed a mansion, she was faced with several closed doors. She needed to move fast before her chance slipped away.

Recalling a trick from one of her books, Annie zipped over to a door and listened. Then she drew in a deep breath. Several doors followed until she came upon one that looked appropriate. Now that she was up here, she wished she had brought a lookout. Omen might have enjoyed the fun of pretending they held interesting jobs, but she wasn’t sure if he would be brave enough to do what she planned.

A strong whiff of perfume followed by a strong scent of oak made Annie’s head spin. She waved a hand in front of her nose, but she was sure she had the right room. What lay behind the door must be Racine’s personal sitting room. She dared to believe the space held secrets.

The doorknob rattled but didn’t give, and Annie grumbled. After first checking the stairs, she stooped and braced her giant purse on her lap. Her thighs burned a bit, but she bore it to search for something to pick the lock.

This is crazy, Annie. If you’re caught, you’re going to jail.

She had done some harebrained things in her life, but normally she stayed within the confines of the law. This wasn’t one of those times, and she put it down to—well, she wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe losing her sister, sometimes thinking she would eventually end up like Jane.

No matter what Annie encountered in her life, she faced risks head on. With bobby pins in hand, she tried to do what she had researched for a book. The research in this case was all from watching YouTube videos.

The first bobby pin broke inside the lock. She squeaked in alarm and stared at the tiny bit of metal sticking out of the hole. “Crap.”

Her knees were beginning to catch fire in pain, so she straightened to rub them. Someone shouted from the first floor, and Mr. Witman raised his voice above the female one. “Racine, calm down. This is not the time for your theatrics.”

Annie wished she were down there to see it all. If Racine truly wanted Barbara Jean gone, she would have called the police by now, wouldn’t she? Or had the butler do it?

A window above the door caught Annie’s eye. She had seen that type of thing before, a window that could be propped open with the attached lever. Only older homes included it. She judged the space and wondered if her plump figure could squeeze through. For that matter, did she have enough time?

“Nothing ventured…”

She pulled off her heels and set them inside a closet she found. If anyone came upstairs, she could hide, and her shoes wouldn’t be in the hall to give her away. She slung her purse over her head to hang on her back. Once she made it through the window, she would maneuver it better.

Annie placed a bare foot on the doorknob and held onto both sides of the doorjamb. “I should really learn that I don’t have the figure for this kind of nonsense.”

With a deep breath, she hoisted herself up.

A
voice
on the stairs made Annie freeze. Her butt was hiked up in the air and her legs flailed about as she tried wigging enough to get through the window. This was what she got for sliding over to the bad side and breaking the law. All she could envision was being stuck in the window and the whole crowd of people downstairs coming up to see the spectacle.

“I’m just getting some migraine medicine, Wes!” Racine said. Annie judged her to be still on the stairs but heading up.

“Let a servant get it,” her husband said. “You have guests.”

“You know I don’t like anyone in my private space, and I left the bottle in there. If you want to make yourself useful, see what that woman is doing.”

Annie had a moment of panic thinking they meant her, but obviously Racine didn’t want her husband following her upstairs. She also doubted she had landed on either of their radars yet. If she didn’t get down quick, Racine was liable to find her, and she wouldn’t delay calling the police. Annie bet Sheriff Appleton would just love to toss her in jail.

She wiggled harder, and something tore on her dress. Groaning and thinking of the beauty as well as the cost, she leaned the front part her body down into the room. Gravity did the rest, and she slid through the opening. She just managed to catch hold of the inside doorknob before she plunged to the floor.

By sheer miracle, she swung her legs around as her feet cleared the opening. She landed hard and turned one ankle. Pain wrenched a small cry from her, and her eyes watered. She bit down on the inside of her cheek.

While Racine delayed arriving, Annie crouched before the door. She rattled the knob as quietly as she could and turned the lock. She didn’t expect it to work for what she wanted, but when she pressed her face close to the floor, she saw it. The tiny bit of bobby pin had fallen out into the hall. Hopefully, Racine wouldn’t notice it.

A key entered the lock on the outside. She sucked in a breath and whirled around, looking for somewhere to hide. The closet stood open, and rows of dresses lined both sides. Annie had just enough time to duck in among the clothing before Racine strode into the room.

Her ankle throbbed, and she had an insane urge to wash her hands after having climbed through the window. Suffice it to say the maids were lax about dusting up there.

The room Annie had invaded was indeed a private space for Racine. Half sitting room, half changing room and office, the space seemed to be multipurpose. The woman probably liked to get away from her family sometimes and shut herself inside. Across from where Annie hid was another door that led into a full bathroom. If there was a mini-fridge somewhere, Racine didn’t have to ever leave the sanctuary.

While the desk in the corner clearly held a small prescription bottle that could be migraine medicine, Racine didn’t head toward it. Instead, she walked to the closet. Annie held her breath, eyes wide. Did she see her hiding there?

Racine’s expression was tight with worry, and her gaze never wavered from one particular spot in her closet. When she reached it, she dropped to her knees just inches from where Annie stood behind several floor length evening gowns.

Annie had thoughts of fluff tickling her nose and sneezing to give away her position, but that only happened in the movies. None of Racine’s dresses included feathers.

Too bad. With her taste for the dramatic, a boa around her neck would work great.

Racine used a key on the ring in her hand to open a small case. She removed a sheet of paper, and Annie strained to see what was written. The word license might have been printed there, but she couldn’t be sure.

Racine stood and left the closet. This time she moved to the fireplace. Nights weren’t chilly enough to set a fire yet, but Racine stuck the paper on the hearth and searched her pockets.

She’s going to burn it!

Annie pulled her purse around and jabbed a hand inside to search for something, anything that she could use to delay Racine. When her hand closed on a round object, she recalled a stress ball from a convention she’d attended a few years ago. She’d squeezed the thing so often the words wore off the surface.

Sneaking out of the closet, she bore the pain in her ankle. With Racine’s back to her, she came into sight of the hall and chucked the ball down it. By the time the little ball bounced against a wall, Annie was hiding behind the door.

Racine jumped to her feet and ran out to the hall. Annie removed a sheet of paper from her purse and threw it into the fireplace. She grabbed the original Racine intended to burn and ran back into the closet.

Soon the scent of burning paper reached Annie, and her throat itched. Not until the sound of the door closing did she let go of her pent up breath, and she sagged to the floor.

The paper in the fireplace glowed, and Annie crawled over to it. Her knees ached, but at least the room was carpeted. She dug into her purse and pulled out her rubber gloves. She stuck the fire poker into the ashes and stirred them a bit. A few extra bits of paper burned orange and then turned black.

She peeled off the gloves and cringed at the black soot in spots. The doorknob rattled again. Annie double timed it to the closet and dove behind a golden gown with a sequined, strapless bodice. Her stomach turned over, threatening to empty on the closet floor because of her ankle. She shut her eyes and laid her forehead against the wall.

“Annie, come out.”

She started but didn’t move.

“Annie, I know you’re in there.”

Her fear eased enough so that she recognized Flynn’s voice. She poked her head through the dresses and found him standing in the closet entryway. The door to the room stood shut, and Flynn frowned at her.

“Why are you in Racine’s closet?” he demanded.

“How did you know I was here?”

“We’ll talk after you get up.”

“A little help?”

He held out his hand, and she grabbed onto his wrist to hoist herself to her feet. The pain in her ankle flared, and she almost fainted. Flynn’s arms came around her. She tried to push him away, but her energy flagged after the acrobatics she had performed.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She followed his movements as he propped her against the wall then grabbed something from the floor. Afterward, they made their way out of the room. Flynn kept his arm about her waist, and Annie blushed. She thought any minute she would panic, but so far, she just shook a bit.

Flynn opened the door to another unlocked room, and they moved inside. When Annie discovered a couch, she collapsed onto it and sighed in relief. Eyes half closed, she watched Flynn sink into an armchair.

“Ready to tell me why you were in there?”

“Nope.”

“Annie.”

She yawned. A good nap would restore her energy. The nervous fear ebbed. Flynn helped her feel safe. “How did you know I was hiding in the closet?”

He made a noise, and she opened her eyes, not realizing she had shut them. Flynn waved her rubber gloves.

“These were on the floor near the fireplace.”

Annie sat up. “They could belong to anybody.”

“I don’t know anyone who carries rubber kitchen gloves in their purse, except Annie Holloway.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re too darn observant, Flynn.”

“I’d have to blind…”

She grumbled.

“So what were you burning in the fireplace?” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “I’d also have to have a problem with my nose not to smell something burning. So what was it?”

“I didn’t burn anything.”

“Annie, we’ve worked together before. Why won’t you talk to me?”

He moved from the armchair to take a seat beside her, much too close. Annie’s heart raced. As far as she knew no man had ever stirred her senses like Flynn was doing right then. Men didn’t interest her because she was broken after her terrible past. Flynn was changing that somehow.

“You say we’ve worked together, but you’ve locked me out of your investigation this time around. You were surprised to see me here. Maybe you didn’t think I would have connections to get in.”

He grinned. “I know you better than that. Even if you didn’t have connections, you would find a way. I’ve known you were clever from the first time I met you. Ever since that time when I was almost killed, all I’ve wanted was for you to be safe, Annie. You’ve been through a lot.”

She warmed at his words. “I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself. Since you won’t let me help, I’m handling things on my own.”

“Like breaking into Racine’s private room?”

“Um…” She couldn’t think of an excuse, especially since he caught her red-handed.

Flynn touched a lock of her hair, and Annie felt the heat of his nearness. She swallowed and clutched her hands together in her lap. When he noted her shaking a bit, he surged to his feet and backed off.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.” She wasn’t either. Not like before. He made her nervous, but she trusted he wouldn’t try to hurt her. The physical reaction happened on its own despite how she felt about him in her head—and her heart.

“How about we work together on this, but you don’t try to break in anywhere anymore? Especially without me.”

Annie smirked. “Oh, you’re offering to work with me because you think I know something. Is that it, Flynn?”

He chuckled. “Part of it is because I want you safe. I don’t doubt I can convince you to share what you were doing in that room whether we partner or not.”

“Hah! You’re tempting me to walk out of here and leave you ignorant.”

“Except you hurt your ankle, and I’m guessing you can’t walk by yourself.”

“You notice too much, Flynn Aikens,” she said for the thousandth time.

He winked. “Don’t fight me, Annie. You’ll lose, even if you don’t know it yet.”

“Bah. All right, fine. I think I found the license.”

Flynn’s mouth fell open. “You what?”

She dug into her purse, where she had stuffed the sheet she exchanged. “Racine was trying to burn this paper, and I distracted her and gave her some bill or something to burn.”

She brought out the sheet with a flourish and handed it to Flynn without looking at it. Pride swelled inside her that she had one-upped him.

He studied the page for a few silent moments, and then his expression fell. “This is a license for Wesley and BJ to get married, but it isn’t signed.”

“What?” She snatched it from him and looked for herself. Flynn was right. The names of the couple were filled in, indicating the two had applied for the license. The spot where the minister needed to fill in his information was blank, as was the location at the bottom for witness signatures. “So she’s not married?”

Flynn shook his head. “She says she is, and I believe it.”

“Why are you so stubborn about her? Do you love her that much?”

Flynn glanced at Annie. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. She couldn’t figure out what it was, but then his expression cleared. “I know BJ well enough to know when she’s bluffing or when she’s outright lying. She’s never been able to get away with lying to me. She said they were married.”

Annie put her hands on her hips. “And that settles it, huh?”

“How about I give you reasonable doubt that she’s lying?”

Annie huffed.

“This license is dated four months ago, Annie, the last time she and I were officially a couple.”

“I thought you were seeing each other now?”

“If I was dating BJ, I wouldn’t have asked you out.”

She blinked at him. “When did you ask me out?”

He gaped at her. “Annie, I said we should take in a movie and have dinner some time.”

“I thought that was as friends, and it was tossed out there so casually.”

“You’re a hard woman to understand.”

She tossed him a triumphant look. “Then you can’t read me as well as BJ. What a shame. This license is expired. So what?”

“So, I checked with the county clerk. Another one was issued.”

“Oh.”

Annie thought about it. A marriage license in North Carolina was good for only sixty days. One had to get married within the time or another license would need to be issued. Some period over the last few months, Racine had asked Mark to steal the license. Annie discussed everything with Flynn.

“She must know they could just get another one.”

Flynn nodded. “Yes, but they’ve delayed so many times because Wesley always had trouble going against his parents’ wishes, and BJ—”

“Is in love with you.”

He didn’t deny it.

“She’s torn between wanting the money and wanting you.”

“Annie, you have to understand the life she led growing up. In truth, it’s not very different from many—financial struggle, hunger, keeping a roof over your head. The variance is in how we approach life when everything is in our own hands.”

Barbara Jean saw using her looks to get what she wanted, although Annie didn’t understand why she hadn’t married Flynn long before she set her sights on Wesley. She also wanted to ask Flynn if it angered him the way she treated him, brushing him aside whenever Wesley had found a little bit of backbone.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs defending her against Racine? I imagine she’s called the police by now. Why did you two crash the party anyway?”

“I had no idea you were here playing detective.”

He glared, but Annie refused to feel guilty about her actions. Not now, anyway.

“BJ might be an unwanted guest, and me by association, but I gambled Racine wouldn’t throw her out right away because she wasn’t able to keep her behind bars.”

“What do you mean?”

“BJ is hot-headed and tends to say too much. Racine would want her to make a scene and in turn get more of her influential friends to see Racine as the grieving mother with a crazy killer bold enough to come into her home making demands. The pressure that would place on Sheriff Appleton would be almost unbearable. He would have to figure out a way to get this case closed—with BJ convicted.”

“But that’s too risky! Flynn, it sounds like you’re playing games with her life.”

“It wasn’t my idea. I said I took the gamble. BJ was desperate enough to risk us coming here, and it did work to distract them all while I made my way up here. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you hiding in the closet.”