Died with a Bow (14 page)

“You started it,” I said under my breath. I would not be blamed for disrespecting the dead. “I’m just defending myself. For your information, speaking as an Aquarius, Saturn has been in my house this past week, so I’ve been trying to broaden my mind. I know you don’t want my help, and you won’t let me take a polygraph test, so I’m backing off.” Of course this was a lie, and I don’t think he believed me.

“Rita,” he said, glaring at me.

I don’t know what else he was going to say, probably another warning not to meddle. What else was new? Tired of trying to clear myself, I turned away from the coffin and went to join some of Dolce’s customers dressed just as they said they would, in true Vienna-homage outfits. It made me relax and smile as we exchanged hellos. They said they’d
gotten some strange looks, but they didn’t care. They were here to honor Vienna.

A few minutes later I saw Athena standing with her mother, Noreen. Her eyes were red and swollen. I wanted to introduce myself and offer my condolences, but they were in the midst of a conversation.

“I blame your father for this,” Noreen was saying to Athena between sniffles. “He always gave her everything she wanted. Why else did she choose to live with him instead of me? Because he gave her everything she ever wanted, that’s why. You see what happened? No wonder she crossed someone who did her in. She thought she was entitled. See where that got her.”

I stood listening shamelessly while they talked. It was all useful information. Maybe even crucial. Some nuggets I already knew, like the fact that Vienna thought she was God’s gift to retail and to the men in her life. The two women scarcely noticed me.

“Mother, Daddy is the only one here who even gave a damn about Vienna. Yes, he spoiled her, but at least he cared about her. You’ll have to find someone else to blame for her murder.”

At that point the two of them looked at me. They knew I’d been eavesdropping. I flushed guiltily, but I stayed right where I was.

I wanted to say, “Don’t look at me,” or else I wanted to run out of the room, but of course that would have made me look guilty. So I smiled weakly and said I was sorry for their loss.

Athena and her mother stared blankly at me for a second, then went on talking as if I wasn’t there.

“You have to speak to Daddy,” Athena told her mother. “Now of all times. He looks awful.”

“I can’t face his wife, that bitch. She always calls me Norma, like she can’t remember my name is Noreen.”

“You don’t have to face her. Look, he’s over there with one of his car salesmen. At least you could thank him for hosting this thing, whatever it is.”

“It’s a cocktail party, not a funeral,” Noreen said with a frown. “Totally inappropriate. Just like your father. He has no idea what’s proper under the circumstances.”

“Well, that will just make your reception at the house look that much better.”

“At least Lex will see I know what a wake is and how well I’ve done without him,” Vienna’s mother said. “All right, here I go.”

I watched as she sucked in her breath, smoothed her hair and started across the floor toward her ex-husband. I would have loved to hear their conversation, but I’d have to imagine what went on by their gestures. As it happened, they hugged and cried. That much I could see. What I wanted to hear was who they suspected of killing their daughter.

All I needed to do was walk casually across the room, and I heard Lex Fairchild telling Vienna’s mother, “I swear, Noreen, I’ll kill him if I find him.”

There was only one person he could possibly mean by that: the murderer. How was Lex going to find him? I wished I knew. I wanted to ask him if he had any clues, but I was afraid to face him. I really hoped I could find the murderer first and turn him over to Jack before Lex killed him.

I didn’t have the opportunity to hear any more because just then Lex’s wife in her shameless red dress came out of nowhere, grabbed his arm and told him it was time to leave.

I swear I saw sparks fly between her and Noreen. If Lex hadn’t been there, there might have been a real catfight.

I could only hope I’d have more chances to hear more at the reception or wake or whatever you call it. I caught up with Dolce a few minutes later, after Vienna’s parents had had their brief emotional meeting.

“Looks like the place is clearing out,” Dolce said, her eyelids fluttering. “I hope you can drive to Atherton because I’m feeling a little woozy.”

I gave her a quick scrutinizing look and was glad I’d had
only one drink. How many had she had? I couldn’t blame her for wanting to anesthetize herself from the pain of losing Vienna, the daughter she never had. I used to think I was that daughter, but even though Dolce only knew Vienna briefly, she’d really loved her. Despite the fact that Vienna already had two mothers, she had Dolce too. Maybe Vienna needed all that extra attention. But in the end it didn’t help her stay alive. I admit that Dolce’s fickle affection hurt me, but then, I was still alive and Vienna wasn’t.

“Did you hear anything interesting?” I asked Dolce after the burial as we drove south on the freeway toward the exclusive suburb of Atherton.

“No, but guess what? Vienna’s mother asked me to speak at the wake at her house,” she said. “That’s what she called it, ‘the wake.’”

“Really? That’s nice of her. She must realize how much you meant to Vienna. You gave her a job. You were her friend. What will you say?” I was a little worried. Dolce had reclined the front bucket seat and was leaning back with her eyes closed and her shoes off. I was afraid she’d fall asleep or into a stupor and I wouldn’t be able to pry her out so she could give her speech.

“I don’t know,” Dolce said, opening her eyes to peer at me. “I have to write it down or I’ll say the wrong thing. You have to help me.”

“Of course I will,” I said. “You should say something about what she loved to do at the shop and how she was so good at it. And what you remember about her, what you’ll never forget. It’s important to be personal, don’t you think?”

I was glad nobody had asked me to speak. If I had to say what I’d remember, I’d say how proud she was of her sales ability and her taste in clothes compared to mine and how
generous she was to give me her benefit ticket. But was that generous, or was it just a way of getting out of a date she didn’t want?

If it were me who’d been asked to speak, I’d go against the tide and take the opportunity to ask if anyone knew what had happened to her necklace. There’s a question I wanted answered. I was sure Jack did too, but he wouldn’t admit it. I couldn’t help but believe that the necklace had something to do with her murder. And wasn’t that the best way to honor the deceased, by trying to find and punish her killer? But no one had asked me, and it didn’t look like they were going to.

When we got to the address on the card they gave us at the funeral home, we pulled into a circular driveway filled with limos and other expensive cars. And a motorcycle. I assumed it must be Geoffrey’s. I looked forward to a chance to talk to him. Dolce and I sat in the car for a few minutes staring in awe at the property with the towering redwoods forming a backdrop behind it. The house was two stories, a historical Tudor estate on several manicured acres of lawn. A place Vienna might have chosen for her wedding, if she’d had one. If she didn’t get married at her father’s house, which I assumed was equally beautiful.

“I can’t go in there,” Dolce said.

“Why not? Of course you can. You’re going to give a speech, which we’re going to write right now.” I was getting worried, but I couldn’t let it show. I pulled a small pad of paper out of my purse and began to write.

“First an introduction,” I suggested. “How you met. What you noticed about Vienna. Why you hired her. How she stood out.”

Dolce nodded, but she didn’t say anything. I wrote a few
notes about Vienna’s unique style, her ability to sell snow to Eskimos or whatever the equivalent was in the fashion world. “What else?” I asked Dolce.

This time she didn’t open her eyes. She just sat there without moving. My anxiety level was rising. “Dolce, they’re counting on you. These are family and friends of Vienna. They’re not there to judge you. They’re there to hear your memories of her. Special memories. They might not even know Vienna had a job and that she was so good at it. Tell what a great saleswoman she was. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I don’t know, Rita,” Dolce said in a small, sad voice. “Can’t you do it?”

I froze. Imagine me telling Vienna’s family and friends what a wonderful person she was. I could just hear the crowd saying, “Who’s she?” I was nobody. Not to Vienna.

“They asked you. They want you. You knew Vienna in a way that no one else did. You gave her her first job. A job she was great at. Wasn’t she?” I asked, knowing full well what Dolce thought.

She nodded. “The best,” she said.

I tried not to let the words hurt me. “You’re supposed to say how the deceased made the world a better place,” I said. “You can do that. Everyone knows that fashion is a way of brightening people’s lives and helping them feel good about themselves. Vienna had a special talent for bringing out the best looks in the customers, right?” I jotted that down without waiting for Dolce to comment. If I waited for her to agree, we’d never get through with this eulogy.

I looked up to see more cars approaching, parking, and mourners getting out and going in through the wide front doors.

“You’ll feel better when you get something to eat,” I said as I got out, then walked around the car to open the door for Dolce. This was purely selfish. My stomach was growling and my head was pounding. I just hoped Dolce wouldn’t have anything else to drink. One more drink and she’d be unable to even remember her own name much less read the words I’d written on the scratch pad.

I was not disappointed by the buffet Vienna’s mother had prepared. Just the opposite. I was blown away by the spread and hungrier than ever. Actually Noreen must have ordered it, judging by the presence of the caterer’s truck parked behind the kitchen. As I made my way around the long table in the dining room, I filled two plates with tiny appetizers like salmon wasabi bites, spinach and ricotta tarts, grilled lamb skewers with a spicy chutney, and a few individual-size baby back ribs. Just for starters. There was another table with more selections and an entire room dedicated to desserts. I’d have to come back later.

I moved to the patio then where I saw Dolce talking to Patti, who’d sold the auction tickets, and her friend Caroline, also one of our customers. I was dismayed to see Dolce was holding a drink. Of course, it might be something nonalcoholic, but I doubted it. I greeted Patti and handed Dolce a plate.

“Here you are,” I said. “You must be hungry. Let’s sit down.” I took Dolce’s arm and we walked on a brick path toward a second, covered patio next to a sparkling pool. Caroline and Patti came with us, and we all sat down at a glass-topped table.

“I was just telling Dolce I feel responsible for selling her those tickets,” Patti said, shaking her head sadly. “If I hadn’t…”

“Vienna would have gone to the auction anyway,” I said. “Her whole family was there. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” she said. “Her mother was very upset with me.”

“She’ll get over it,” I assured her, taking a bite of lamb from the skewer.

“But Vienna won’t,” she said.

I had to agree. “But whoever murdered Vienna, did he or she have anything to do with the auction? I wonder if it was all about something totally different, an old score to settle, an old dispute.” I looked up, gazing hopefully from Caroline to Dolce to Patti, hoping they’d agree with me because that’s what I wanted to believe. But none of them was any help at all. They just shook their heads. I should have known. These were the subjects I should be discussing with Jack, if only he’d let me. If only he’d ask for my help. If only we could brainstorm. Good luck with that. It wasn’t going to happen. I’d just have to figure it out by myself.

I was glad to see Dolce was eating. That should help her settle her nerves and be prepared to give her remarks. When we’d eaten everything I’d brought, I offered to go get some coffee and dessert for all of us. The more, the better—and a chance to look over the crowd.

The desserts were displayed in the library on a large table. There were about a dozen kinds of cookies, from macaroons to Mexican wedding cookies to classic chocolate chip to shortbread, oatmeal current, and lemon bars. Then there were several kinds of brownies, and numerous cakes, all labeled in case there was any doubt. Opera, lemon meringue, German chocolate and so many more. I couldn’t decide between fresh-fruit Bavarian with fresh raspberries
piled high above the many layers or a simple devil’s food with a rich, thick frosting.

I was standing there, mesmerized by the vast selection of mouthwatering desserts and plates of hand-dipped chocolate candies, when a young man walked in. He didn’t look like Geoffrey—at least, he didn’t resemble the photo I’d seen on Geoffrey’s web site—but in a dark suit and tie, maybe it was him. Or was it Emery or Raold? Whoever it was, however he was connected to Vienna, I had to see what I could learn from him.