Defending Angels (26 page)

“Sorry,” Bree said without a blink. “I came as soon as my schedule permitted.” She stepped inside. The huge living room, with the panoramic view of the Atlantic, was an amazing mix of Condo Modern and McFarland Kitsch. The ochre Tuscan tile floors were no surprise, nor were the elegant stainless steel light fixtures, the coffered ceilings, and the crown moldings. The lava lamps, fuzzy pink pillows, and brightly dyed sheepskin rugs added a raffish charm. One wall held an étagère with the complete set of ceramic characters from
Gone with the Wind
. Bree picked up the Rhett Butler and put it down again.

“That has to be my all-time favorite movie,” Chastity said. “Isn’t that little Melanie sweet? And I just love the Scarlett.” She picked up the Scarlett O’Hara character and set it next to Rhett Butler. “I should have lived in those days instead of these modern times, you know?”

“They didn’t treat women very well,” Bree observed, “or African Americans, or Yankees, or anybody who wasn’t white, male, and over twenty-one. I think you would have hated it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Bree didn’t wait for an invitation, but settled herself on the overstuffed sofa. It was white leather, and surprisingly comfortable.

“That was where Bennie used to sit.” Chastity perched on the arm of a matching leather chair. She wore tight Guess jeans and a cropped T-shirt that barely contained those astonishing breasts. Bree wondered if having a bosom that large was as uncomfortable as it looked.

“They’re real,” Chastity said without the slightest embarrassment. “Everybody wonders, so I just up and say so.”

“I didn’t mean to stare,” Bree said apologetically. But she did wonder about the lie. She was no expert, but Chastity’s bosom was definitely fake. Was she generally untruthful? She hesitated, trying to decide on the best approach. Did Chastity believe, like Liz, that Benjamin Skinner was haunting her? Or had she overheard an actual threat?

“I know you believe that Mr. Skinner was murdered,” Bree said. “Ms. Overshaw believes it, too. I was hoping that you might give me some reasons why you feel this way?”

“He always said they’d get him in the end, you know.” Chastity curled up in the chair and brooded over a fingernail. “And sure enough, they did.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“You know, all those people who were out to get him, and that.” Chastity looked at her hopefully. “A lot of people hated his guts.”

“Did you?”

“Me? No, I didn’t hate his guts. He gave me a chance.”

“A chance?”

“Sure. I’m finishing up my GED.”

“You are?” Bree said.

“Look here.” She crossed over to the armoire that held the wide-screen TV and scrabbled among the pile of paper there. “See? Homework. Bennie said you don’t get anywhere without an education. If I passed my high school exam, he was going to help me go on for a two-year degree.”

“Was there something in particular you wanted to study?”

“I thought maybe I’d work with animals, and that. At a vet’s maybe. But then, I checked out how much they get paid.” She frowned. “Didn’t sound so hot. And of course now, it doesn’t matter, because the sons of bitches got him, like he always said they would.”

“Did he have anyone specific in mind?”

“Well, it wouldn’t knock me ass over teacup if it turned out to be that Jennifer. Spiteful bitch. You know, she’s the one trying to get me kicked out of here.” Chastity’s face flushed pink. “I embarrass her, that’s what I do. Stuck-up snob. If you could pin it on her, it wouldn’t make
me
lose any sleep.”

“Do you have a deed to the condo here?” Bree asked gently.

“Well, no. That’s kind of a problem, see.” She uncurled her legs and leaned forward confidingly. “It belongs to the partners. Bennie was trying to get out of this deal, and
supposedly
was in the middle of signing his share over to the other guys.”

This didn’t make a lot of sense to Bree. “And this unit was part of his share?”

“I guess.” Chastity threw her arms wide. “Basically, he didn’t want a thing to do with this place. So the stuff that he owned, he was trying to get rid of.”

“Are you saying that he had a partnership agreement with Doug Fairchild and he wanted to get out of it?”

“Yeah,” Chastity nodded. “But he hadn’t done it yet, and so Miss Priss Face and that geek husband of hers have to pay, like, all my utilities and the management fee. That stuff.”

“I see,” Bree said. She coughed a little to hide her grin. No, Jennifer wouldn’t like keeping her father-in-law’s girlfriend in luxury one little bit. Aside from the social humiliation, the management fees alone had to be astronomical. And they were prorated by ownership. If Chastity was the only occupant of the building, and the legal ownership was in dispute, the younger Skinners would be facing a hefty charge every month. “You don’t know why, um ... Bennie wanted to get rid of his share?” She looked out the windows at the incredible view of the ocean. Places like this were gold under the mattress, no matter what state the real estate market was in.

Chastity shrugged, unconsciously echoing Bree’s thoughts. “Me, I think it’s fabulous. You know how much this place would go for on the open market? Couple of million, easy.”

“Did Mr. Skinner—Bennie—receive any direct threats to his life?”

“You mean, like, ‘I’ll kill you, bastard!’ sort of stuff?” She smiled like a gleeful kid. “Just from me, once in a while.” She nibbled her lower lip and added, “We didn’t go out much. And when we did, it wasn’t with any of the people he knew.”

“I see,” Bree said. It was a sad life this girl had chosen for herself. “And to the best of your recollection, he didn’t give you any specifics.”

“Just that they were going to get him one of these days.” She twiddled her hair evasively.

Bree leaned forward a little. “Chastity, what you’re telling me doesn’t sound like a murder plot. It sounds like a fairly aggressive businessman complaining about his universe.”

“Just sort of general bellyaching, you mean.”

“Exactly.”

She sighed heavily. “So, listen. It’s like this. His death’s ruled an accident, then the case is closed, and the will is, you know, probated.”

“Yes.”

“And then I’m outta here.” She looked at the opulence surrounding her with a wistful air.

“Probably,” Bree said kindly.

Suddenly, she got up and clasped her hands tightly together. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“It’s this friend of mine.” She stopped, and chewed on her lower lip.

Bree made her voice calm. “If you have something to tell me that might be incriminating, give me a dollar.”

“Huh?”

Bree held her hand out. “If you give me a dollar, anything you tell me—short of a confession that you murdered Mr. Skinner yourself—is privileged information.”

“You mean you don’t have to tell the cops.”

“Did you kill Mr. Skinner?”

“No!”

“Then I won’t have to tell the cops. Do you have a dollar?”

“I got more than that.” She went to the fireplace mantel and took a wad of bills from the cloisonné jar that stood there. She handed them to Bree, who extracted a dollar bill and returned the rest to her. “Good. You’re now officially my client. You didn’t kill Mr. Skinner. But you know who did?”

“Maybe.” Then she burst out, “How much time does a person have to do if they lie to the police?”

“That depends a whole lot on the consequences of the lie. And why you lied in the first place. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Chastity flung herself on the couch. “I’ll tell you something not very nice.”

“Okay,” Bree said equably.

“They said I could have this place free and clear, see?”

“The condo.”

“Right.”

“If I told this lie. Now, they’re saying they’ll send me to jail for lying if I don’t move outta here.” She flushed beet red. “It’s kind of justice, if you know what I mean. I lied to maybe get Bennie’s killer off, and I end up getting shafted. Not,” she added bitterly, “that I don’t deserve it.” She took a deep breath, calmed down, and said briskly, “He was here that morning.”

Bree sat up. “With you?”

“Yep. Just before he went to the marina. He was going sailing with his son and that bit ...” she saw Bree’s minatory look and amended lamely, “that wife of his. He was going to tell them about us getting married.”

Bree wanted to jump up and dance around the living room, but she said, “Okay.”

“We’d already told Mamma. We called her and Denny about nine o’clock ...”

“From here? That morning?”

She nodded. Bree bit back a shout. Independent verification to boot!

“And she was happy as a tick in a pen of puppies. The last I saw of Bennie, he was headed down to the parking garage to get his car and drive to the marina.” She pushed her hair back. “I should have said something earlier. But I didn’t really think it was murder. Not then. I thought it was like that Fairchild said, that he had a heart attack and that it wouldn’t make any difference what I said. And they promised me the condo.”

“Who promised you the condo?”

“That asshole Fairchild. I mean, at first Bennie did, but then he wanted to take the condo back.” She frowned a little. “He’s never been an Indian giver before.”

Bree took a few moments to sort this out. “Ben ... I mean, Mr. Skinner, changed his mind about wanting you to have the condo?”

“Bennie wanted to dump the whole building, I guess. He dumped that jerk Stubblefield and was getting himself a whole new slew of lawyers from Atlanta.”

So Stubblefield had lied to her about still representing Skinner. What a surprise.

Chastity’s gaze shifted away from Bree, a sure sign of a fib to come, in Bree’s opinion. “But he wanted me to live here, even if he did want to shove the whole project up Fairchild’s behind. At least until he found me somewhere else to live.”

“But then he died,” Bree said. “And you lied to the police about not being with him that morning so Fairchild wouldn’t throw you out. And Fairchild went back on his word about letting you stay here?”

Chastity’s sigh seemed to come from the bottom of her heart. “Mr. Fairchild said that stuck-up bitch Jennifer wouldn’t go for it. And that I’ll go to jail for making a false statement to the police. Will I?”

Bree didn’t hesitate. “No. You won’t. Not if I can help it, anyway. These people put a lot of undue pressure on you.”

“Not to mention screwing me out of my house.”

“No kidding.” Bree looked at her with compassion. “If it’s any comfort, you’ve done the right thing.”

“Yeah, well. I was feeling pretty bad about Bennie. So it’s just as well.”

“Is there anywhere you can go after this is all over, Chastity? Back to your mamma down home, maybe?”

“Nah. She was happy enough when I was going to marry a billionaire. She’s not going to be so happy if I come back without a nickel to my name. I’ll be just another mouth to feed. I’ll go back to Life’s a Beach, I guess.”

“Excuse me?”

“Strip joint down in Altoona. It’s where I met Bennie. Say!” Her eyes lit up. Without the foot-long eyelashes and the forty pounds of makeup, she was a pretty girl. “You’re my lawyer now. Maybe you could help me keep this place after this is all over?”

“Did anyone hear Mr. Skinner promise the penthouse to you?”

Her gaze shifted away and fastened on the replica of Tara sitting at the top of the étagère. “You mean, like, an outside witness.”

“Exactly, like an outside witness.”

“I’ve got this girlfriend back at Life’s a Beach. She mighta heard him say it. As a matter of fact, I think she did.” The gleeful little-kid look was back.

Bree bit her lip to hide her grin. “Well, if you can find a good solid witness that heard Mr. Skinner promise this to you, then you might be able to”—she couldn’t say “threaten,” that would be crossing the line for sure—“make a very strong case to Grainger and Jennifer Skinner.”

“You couldn’t take it on for me?”

“I’m afraid not.”

She looked around the living room again, at the cobblestone fireplace on the far side and the elegantly painted walls. She sighed. Then, in a very practical way, she said, “Thanks, anyhow. You gave me a couple of things to think about, anyways. I’ll tell you what, though. I’m not leaving here until the sheriff shows up to throw me out. What d’ya think about that?” Suddenly, she became very much the chatelaine. “Shall I see you out?”

“Thank you,” Bree said politely. She followed Chastity to the double doors. “Good luck. And you’ll think about finishing up that GED?”

“Hey!” she said cheerfully. “I’ll think about it. Tell you what. In this life, you make your own luck.”

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

—
Hamlet
, Shakespeare

Bree punched the “parking” button on the panel in the elevator. She’d avoid the obnoxiously hearty Calvin by sneaking out that way. She’d go into the Angelus office, track down Hunter, and feel him out about protecting Chastity before she dropped her bomb. And Liz Overshaw! There was another phone call she couldn’t wait to make.

The car clattered down and bumped to a stop.

She stepped out into the garage. The breeze was gusting stronger now. The rain was back. The parking area was below grade, and ribbons of rainwater ran onto the asphalt and curled into puddles where the surface wasn’t completely even. She hugged herself and shivered; it was getting cooler. Her raincoat didn’t give her a lot of protection against the cold.

A curbed lane led from the elevator to the ramp that led outside, and she picked her way along it past a large pile of construction debris. The choice parking spots were located here. The spaces nearest the elevator bore “reserved for” signs. There was one for D. Fairchild, one for E. C. Tiptree—and what kind of first name did Calvin have that he preferred Calvin?—and one for B. Skinner. As she walked past, she reached out and traced his name with her forefinger.