Designer Knockoff (46 page)

BOOK: Designer Knockoff

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Even Duffy, Mimi’s old beau and a former reporter himself, attended to see how the story ended. But Dorrie Rogers, whom Lacey had never identified in her stories, didn’t come, saying she was too old to travel. She told Lacey she was satisfied that the story had an ending, but she was still afraid of the Bentleys.

Lacey had half expected to see Jeffrey there, but of course he wasn’t. She was sure he would have considered it in bad taste to appear, and in any case he was still on his retreat. But she was surprised to see Mike O’Leary there, with his wife, Peg. The big Irishman hugged her. “This whole thing is tearing Jeff up, but he’ll come out of it stronger; you’ll see. I always thought I knew all the Bentley dirt, but I was wrong, wasn’t I? He always believed there was some terrible secret that had to come out. But he’ll heal. He’s not like the rest of them.”

And there was one other mourner Lacey was surprised to see: Honey Martin with her housekeeper and companion, Ruby. Honey wore a proper navy overcoat, an ancient pillbox hat, and gloves. Ruby wore a stylish gold raincoat.

“Mrs. Martin, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Lacey said.

“Well, I didn’t either, and yet here I am. Perhaps I judged Gloria too harshly, and it was such a long time ago. Do you like the silk flowers? Of course, I would have preferred to send a blanket of fresh fall flowers, but that young Miss Tremain thought that this would be more fitting, and in a weak moment I agreed.”

“You provided the silk morning glories? That’s very nice, Honey.”

“I wanted to do something, although it’s not really very much. I fear that Annette has a romantic streak, just like her great-aunt Gloria.”

“I think Gloria would love the blue morning glories.”

“Come on, old lady,” Ruby said. “I’ve got to get you home.” Her housekeeper jingled her car keys.

Wilhelmina Tremain couldn’t help telling everyone that she had known all along that those wicked Bentleys had done away with her poor aunt Gloria. The reporters, including Tony Trujillo, were more than willing to listen.

Annette had retained much of the unexpected sparkle she had displayed at the big gala. She was looking very grown-up and feminine, and she was wearing a sharp burgundy suit and shoes that actually had something like heels.

“Of course, it is all so tragic, Lacey. But I think I might try to write a book inspired by the short, sad life of Gloria Adams, my great-aunt. Only I’ll have a more upbeat ending, you know? Maybe she will go off to Paris and become a great designer and have lots of men and live happily ever after and that’ll be her big revenge on those dastardly Bentleys.”

“So it’s a romance?”

“Absolutely. A major romance. Only I’m not telling Mother yet. She would be shocked.” Annette smiled shyly at Lacey. “I know that most of the Bentleys, the old ones anyway, are a horrible bunch of murderers. But in a weird way they gave me back my own life. I was just rotting away, but they opened my eyes. The Bentleys really changed my life.... Oh my, you aren’t going to quote me, are you?” She suddenly looked horrified at the thought of seeing this conversation in the paper. Lacey imagined the headline: “Murder Victim’s Niece Thanks Killers!”

“No, no. You’re completely off the record. You save it for your own book. And I’ll want an autographed copy.”

Lacey trudged back over the uneven ground to where Vic stood among the trees, tall and resolute, sunglasses hiding the amused expression she knew was in his eyes. “Annette is going to write a novel. Based on Gloria Adams, but with a romantic ending. A big, juicy, old-fashioned, bodice-ripping romance. What do you think of that?”

Vic put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “I think it’s time we worked on our own big romance. A little bodice ripping sounds perfect. For a start.”