Died with a Bow (10 page)

Wants it back? I thought. How can she want it back if she never had it? “I saw it. It was gorgeous. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it was missing.” Other than I was upset at finding a dead body. “Maybe your grandmother gave it to her,” I suggested.

“I doubt it. Grammie is old and lives in a retirement home. She doesn’t always know who’s who or what’s what. But she does know what’s hers and what isn’t. And that necklace is hers. She gets us mixed up even though we don’t look anything alike. If Vienna asked to wear the necklace that night, Grammie might have loaned it to her. Vienna had a way of asking for things that you couldn’t resist. I’ll never forget her taking my favorite doll away from me when we were small and tearing her arm off before she was forced to give it back. Frankly, I’m not surprised she came to a violent end. What do they call it when you get what’s coming to you?”

“Just deserts?” I suggested.

“That’s it.”

“You’re not saying she deserved to die,” I said, staring at her.

“No, of course not, just that I’m not totally surprised that she inspired someone to want to do away with her. Anyway, I want to know what happened to the necklace. Grammie once promised it to me. She doesn’t remember, of course. But I do and Vienna did. Why else did she wear it the one night when I’m in town? You tell me.”

What could I say? Because it matched her dress? There
was no love lost between Vienna and myself, but there was no point to adding to Athena’s list of her sister’s faults.

“I don’t care about the dress, but I want the necklace,” Athena said emphatically, tossing her long dark hair. Suddenly her eyes widened. “You don’t think that’s why she was murdered, for the necklace? It’s valuable, but still, it wouldn’t have the same sentimental meaning for anyone but family.”

“I don’t know why she was murdered,” I said. “I’m not a detective.” Though in all modesty I ought to be one after what I’d done to catch the killer of MarySue Jensen.

More to the point, Detective Wall didn’t know about the necklace either. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it was missing when I found Vienna’s body. That’s how traumatized I was. Now I had something to tell Jack. Something important. “I remember seeing your sister and the necklace Saturday night just before she left the auction.” I surely would have remembered if Vienna had been wearing the pink tourmaline when I found her. It was that stunning.

Athena was looking at me as if she suspected me not only of knocking off her sister but of taking the necklace too.

“It was beautiful, but not my style,” I added hastily. “It was an antique and I’m the modern type.”

She gave me a quick once-over, and I had the feeling she was not impressed with my modern style. It didn’t matter. Her sporty style was not mine either. So there. You can’t please everyone, can you?

At that moment Dolce came into the room. She was alone, so I assumed she’d finally shaken off the frumpy policewoman and maybe even sold her a few strategic pieces before she left. I had to introduce her to Athena, but I was afraid she’d go into shock.

“Dolce, this is Vienna’s twin sister, Athena,” I said gently.

Dolce’s mouth fell open. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her. She didn’t need any more surprises. But her reaction shocked me. She threw her arms around Athena and hugged her as if she were Vienna reincarnated. “I’m so sorry about your sister,” Dolce said, her voice trembling.

Athena appeared stunned as well. She held herself stiff and silent, as though unsure of how to respond.

“Athena is looking for Vienna’s dress and jewelry, the things she was wearing Saturday night. I told her we had no idea where they were, but perhaps the police…”

Dolce released Athena and nodded, a tear trickling down one cheek. She may have been the person most affected by Vienna’s demise. Using my theories, did that mean she was most likely the guilty party? No, a thousand times no.

“Athena says the funeral will be held tomorrow,” I said.

“It’s at Cypress Ridge Funeral Home in Colma at two in the afternoon, followed by a reception at my mother’s house in Atherton. She’s hosting that part; my father’s in charge of the wake. He’s completely broken up over it. So I have no idea what he has planned other than an open casket and an open bar. No speeches. So if you have something to say, save it for the reception.”

Dolce nodded, and I hoped she’d have a chance to say how much she loved Vienna and what she’d meant to our business in the short time she’d worked there.

“Mother’s going all out, and so is my father in his own macho male way. Nothing’s too good for his little girl. Never has been. He’s always spoiled her something terrible. When she tore the arm off my doll, he bought us each a new one. She didn’t deserve it. She was livid when she heard for once he was being fair and he’d given me a car for graduation too.”

“When was that?” I asked, peering out the window to see a late-model sports car in front of the shop.

“Just this weekend. I picked out an energy-efficient little roadster, but Vienna was dithering over whether to choose a Porsche or a BMW. That’s my sister. Always trying to one-up me with her expensive taste. Me, I’m easy to please.” She tossed her long loose hair over her shoulder again, and I thought she sounded just a little too smug about her taste and her superiority over her sister. Maybe being Vienna’s sister required a lot of self-confidence. Even when you lived across the continent from her. I wondered what Dolce thought of her. I could hardly wait to call Jack Wall. Wouldn’t he like to know Vienna had a twin sister with whom she was on the outs and who had actually been at the Bachelor Auction? But where was she when Vienna was killed? I was tempted to ask, but that was a question for a skilled professional, not me. For once, I held my tongue.

“Here’s my phone number,” Athena said, handing me a card. “Call me if you come across Vienna’s dress or necklace. Mother’s on a rampage, as you can imagine. See you tomorrow.” With that, she turned and left.

There was a long silence in the shop while we both pondered this new arrival on the scene. What role would she play in the next act? A more important question came to mind. What was I going to wear to the funeral?

I left Dolce to mix with the customers in the great room, and I took refuge in her office for a moment to call Detective Wall.

“I have some information for you regarding the Vienna Fairchild case,” I said, unable to conceal my excitement.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Can we meet somewhere?”

“Is it that good?”

Now I was nervous. What if we met and I told him everything I knew and he just looked at me blankly, or even worse, he looked at his watch as if I was wasting his time.

“I think so, but if you’re too busy…”

“I’ll be at the coffee shop on the corner in fifteen minutes,” he said brusquely.

I hung up, pulled out a pad of paper and made a list so I wouldn’t babble on incoherently when I saw him. I started
writing names and then remembered I didn’t know the names of the other men in Vienna’s life. Except for Geoffrey, whom Vienna had told us about. But who were the others? Had one of them killed her in a jealous rage? Or did Geoffrey? It made sense. If only I knew who the others were. Suddenly I remembered Geoffrey’s last name. Hill. I did a quick search on Dolce’s computer and found he was a graphic artist with a web site. There he was, “Geoffrey Hill, Designer of Web Sites, Logos and More.” From the examples, I could tell he had a whimsical sense of humor. Had that appealed to Vienna? Or was that why she was dating someone else, several someones else. He was too off-beat.

From the photo on his site, I saw that Geoffrey was indeed the tall, lanky guy I’d seen outside the shop on his motorcycle. He was a creative genius according to the raves he’d posted from those he’d worked for. I called his number. I expected an answering machine, but he picked up on the second ring.

I told him who I was, then I asked if he’d heard about Vienna.

Would he burst into tears or what? He didn’t.

“Yeah,” he said. “The police were here already. I told them I didn’t know anything. Except that girl was headed for trouble.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Come on,” he said. “You knew her. You knew what she was up to. She was a user. She was using me to design a web site for her, just like she used me as a decoy in high school. First a Facebook page and then it never stopped. She was using your store too.”

I couldn’t let that go. “How do you mean? She worked here and she was a terrific saleswoman.” I realized I was
sounding like her defense attorney, but I didn’t get the part about her being a user. She didn’t use me or Dolce as far as I knew. We used her to sell clothes and accessories.

“And I’m not sure I did know her,” I said. “Are you talking about other guys she might have been dating?” Maybe he was mad because Vienna had other boyfriends with better wheels than his. “I suppose you told the police everything.”

“Everything they asked me.”

“Did they ask you who the other guys were?” If only he’d say no and then tell me and I’d have an exclusive. I’d show Jack Wall I was one step ahead of him.

“You mean did I rat on Raold and Emery?” he said. “No. None of their business. They’re not murderers. You ever meet them?”

“No, but I think I saw one of them or both of them pick her up. Does one drive a Lotus and the other an SUV?”

“How should I know? Do I hang with them, go riding around with them? No. I’ve got my own wheels,” he said proudly. But I thought he did know what they drove. Guys always do, that’s how they identify themselves.

“I know. I saw your motorcycle. Nice bike. So you don’t think either one of them could help find Vienna’s killer?”

“I told you I don’t know.” He sounded irritated. Where was that whimsical sense of humor? Maybe he was saving it for his paying customers. “From what she said, I first thought it was you who offed her. She told me you were stiffed when she took your place. I don’t know anything about crime, but I know jealousy is one hell of a motive for murder.”

“I did not kill Vienna,” I said, incensed that yet another person suspected me of murder. “I wasn’t happy about
Vienna working here, but I didn’t kill her. Did you tell the police—I mean, did you tell them you suspected me?” I asked anxiously. That’s all I needed was another person thinking I was guilty and blabbing about it.

“I might have said something,” he said. “Can’t remember. Since Vienna’s murder, people have been calling me nonstop since the obit was in the paper. Friends, customers, whatever. I’ve got more business than I can handle.” Then he hung up. I’d pushed him as far as I could and found out he’d probably told the police to check me out. At least I’d gotten something positive out of our conversation. Two names I’d been looking for. Raold and Emery. And it looked like Geoffrey had gotten something positive out of Vienna’s death: his business had picked up. Already. Amazing what murder can do for a person’s business. Kind of ghoulish, actually.

I couldn’t believe it, but that’s what I’d heard. I wondered how other many people were glad Vienna was gone. Besides me, of course.

My phone rang. It was Jonathan.

“We’re all set for Saturday night,” he said. “That still okay with you?”

“Of course. I’m excited. It’s such a happening spot.”

“That’s what I hear. How are you?”

“I’m fine, but well, it’s complicated. With the murder of Vienna, it leaves a hole in our sales force.” I didn’t tell him how happy I was to fill that hole. I didn’t want to sound callous, as if Vienna’s murder was either an opportunity or just an inconvenience. I didn’t want to put a damper on our relationship by telling him I was a murder suspect.

“You must be really busy. You don’t have to work overtime, do you?” he asked.

How like Jonathan to think of me and how I’d be affected.

“No, it’s not like that. In fact, because she’s not here anymore, I have my old job back doing what I love: selling clothes. The downside is that there’s a murderer on the loose.”

“Any idea of who it might be?”

“Not yet,” I said, “but I’m working on it.” There you have it, the contrast between Jonathan and Jack. Jack never wanted my input, whereas Jonathan thought I was worth listening to. It almost made me want to cancel my meeting with Jack. He didn’t deserve my help.

“I have to run, Jonathan,” I said. “See you Saturday.”

“Pick you up at seven,” he said.

I grabbed my Juicy Couture hobo handbag and headed for the door. Jack was waiting for me at the coffee shop, in civilian clothes as usual. Today it was a blue denim work shirt and a pair of five-pocket designer jeans. The truth was, he could wear anything anywhere and still look like he’d stepped out of
GQ
. He was sitting at a small table talking on his cell phone and texting at the same time. Like he couldn’t waste a single minute of the day just having coffee with an informant. As if he was the only one with a time-consuming, important job. I knew he thought selling clothes and accessories was a trivial pursuit, but did he have to make it so obvious I was wasting his time? I had half a mind to turn around and leave.

“Coffee?” I asked, since he wasn’t playing the role of host.