Gilt Trip (The Boston Uncommons Mystery Series Book 3) (14 page)

I spent the rest of the morning attending to Cato and choosing an appropriate outfit for a Four Seasons fashion fest. I settled on a red Escada suit that showcased my best assets. The garment was form-fitting and made me feel saucy, stylish but not slutty. Deming was especially fond of it.

My home is only two blocks from the hotel—two long, excruciating blocks when you’re wearing stilettos. By the time I limped into the Bristol Lounge, Anika and Heather were already seated, enjoying their wine.

“Eja, we were worried,” Anika said. She wore an elegant peach pantsuit that accentuated her creamy complexion. Heather was model-slim in a black skirted suit straight from the pages of
Vogue
.

Apparently, Anika had launched a full charm offensive, and Heather was lapping it up like cream.

“Isn’t she stunning, Eja? As you can see, Heather has a direct line to all the New York fashion houses.” Anika sipped sparingly as she spoke. “Perhaps she can include us on her next shopping trip. After all, you need a new jacket.”

Fashion talk bored me silly, but I immediately took my cue and heaved a big sigh. “Lieutenant Bates said I’ll never get that jacket back. Not in this lifetime anyway. What a pain.”

Heather awakened from her stupor long enough to blink. “Really? Why not?”

“Oh, you know, dear,” Anika said. “Nosebleeds are so difficult to deal with, and Eja got your blood all over her sleeve.” She patted my arm. “Not to worry. We’ll find you something even nicer, Eja. My treat.”

“My blood?” Heather said. She was either an Oscar-caliber actress or totally befuddled by the conversation. “I don’t understand.”

“You and Phaedra must have mixed it up again in the locker room,” I said. “My sleeve got messed up when Anika and I found her body.”

Heather sat motionless with her mouth agape. “But I never even saw her that night. After my session with Sifu Ming, my nose started bleeding. I thought I’d mopped it all up.”

I spent a few seconds imagining the gymnastics that led to her nosebleed. Justin Ming was certainly agile enough to cause a girl’s blood to boil, and Heather was thoroughly engaged, body and soul. One false move or elbow jab could easily inflict injury.

Anika wore her most maternal look. “I’m so sorry. I just assumed that your attorney had already discussed it with you. Lieutenant Bates told us about it yesterday. Don’t you worry one bit. Your legal team will handle it.”

A wave of color swept over Heather’s cheeks. “Yes. Pamela Schwartz and your son take good care of me.”

Anika and I locked eyes, signaling that the time was right for some real girl talk.

“What was the story with this Phaedra Jones?” I asked. “She seemed so hostile.”

Anika nodded. “Some women are very competitive. It’s a shame really.”

I leaned closer to Heather. “Lieutenant Bates had the lowdown on her. She said Phaedra was a con woman. Can you believe it?”

Heather curled her lip. “You bet. She zeroed in on any man with money, even Master Moore. Justin told me she made a real pest of herself.”

“Surely Master Moore doesn’t have money,” Anika said. “Running a dojo is expensive.”

I smirked. “Phaedra’s interest in Justin Ming doesn’t surprise me, though. That man is a sexual magnet. Women seem to flock his way.”

Her reaction was right on target. Heather drummed her fingers on the table and set her patrician jaw. “I’m not supposed to discuss it,” she said. “Pamela said so.”

“Of course,” I said, patting her hand. “Besides, Justin told me that Phaedra was in love with him. Can you believe it? No surprise. I’m certain that he shut her down right away.”

Heather drained her water glass. She clutched her chest, slumped in her seat, and went limp.

“Oh, no,” I cried. “Should I call a doctor?”

Medical emergencies terrify me. Instead of helping, I dithered. My contribution was ineffectually chafing Heather’s wrists and rubbing her forehead with a damp napkin.

Anika stayed cucumber cool. “Don’t panic, Eja. I have just the thing.” She plucked a vial of smelling salts from her Birkin bag, leaned across the seat, and waved them under Heather’s nose. “There. That should do it.”

Chapter Thirteen

I WATCHED TRANSFIXED as Heather Exley rapidly came to her senses. Her recovery made me question whether the entire drama had been yet another bid for attention. Anika winked at me as she gave Heather a second dose of sal volatile. Anika was a marvel! How many society matrons carry smelling salts in their Birkin bags?

“How in the world . . .” I asked.

Anika laughed. “That came in handy when the twins were little. Wait ’til you’re a mother, Eja. You’ll understand.”

I felt the heat rising to my cheeks and looked away to avoid embarrassment. Meanwhile Heather blinked her big blue eyes and spoke in a tremulous voice. She seemed far more interested in her wayward lover than her own ailments. “Is it true about Justin and Phaedra? He told me she was only his student.”

I shrugged and feigned indifference. “So many women are lonely. She was probably fixated and threw herself at him. Everyone’s a stalker these days. It often happens with male authority figures, and you must admit, Justin is a babe.”

Heather’s agitation was obvious. Her perfectly manicured fingers shook as she took a sip of wine. “He told me he loved me, and I believed him. I would have given him anything.”

How many times had I heard that familiar tune from credulous women? Oddly enough, I’d pegged Heather as too calculating to fall for a line as old as Adam and Eve. Instead of steamy, sweaty sex, the lady wanted old-fashioned romance and exclusivity. Go figure.

Anika didn’t miss a step. She gripped Heather’s arm in a gesture of female solidarity.

“How much money did you loan him?” she asked. “We’ve all been there, Heather. Don’t feel ashamed.”

Her flawless makeup never faltered, even as a fat tear trickled down Heather’s cheek. “Not much. Justin needed investors. He plans to start his own dojo, you see, and the down payment was more than he’d planned for.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Anika fibbed. “Eja and I want a business opportunity too. It’s important for a woman to assert her independence, don’t you agree?”

I summoned my sweetest smile. “How much was Justin asking?”

Her whispered response was almost inaudible. “Fifty thousand. He had a lot of expenses. Renovation and such.”

How many generous patrons had forked over a similar sum? No wonder the sexy sifu was so confident. Between thrusts and embraces, he managed to pick more than a few pockets. In many ways, he was no different than Phaedra herself. Both profited from the weakness and neediness of others.

Heather plucked a mirror from her purse and dabbed her eyes. “I have to leave,” she said. “Please don’t tell Horton about this.”

“Of course not,” Anika said. “Po can drive you home, Heather. You still look pale.”

“No. Please. I have my car here.”

Heather did look unwell, but I saw an opportunity to connect with Portia Amory Shaw without appearing too obvious.

“No problem,” I said. “You can ride with Po while Anika and I follow behind in your car. That way we won’t take any chances.”

Anika placed a water glass on some bills and herded us out the door to the Bentley. “Where did you park your car, dear?” she asked.

“The valet has it.” After handing me her receipt, Heather sunk into the Bentley’s sumptuous seats. She was either faking or genuinely distressed, but I couldn’t tell which.

“Take Mrs. Exley home, please,” Anika told Po. “We’ll follow right behind you.”

The valet snapped to attention and in short order delivered Heather’s car. It suited her, a striking Jaguar convertible that oozed money and class. I don’t own a car, and my skill at navigating in city traffic verges on dangerous. I had no desire to mar the custom paint or dent the pristine exterior of a work of art.

“I’ll drive, if you don’t mind.” Anika’s eyes sparkled. “I love Jaguars, in fact, for the longest time I nursed an old XKE along.” She sighed. “A beautiful beast but trouble, like so many gorgeous creatures.”

As we belted ourselves in, I said, “‘
Beauty is its own excuse for being
.’ Remember?”

“Ah, Emerson,” Anika said. “How like a Boston boy to appreciate nature. You know, I quoted that to Bolin every time the XKE broke down. Finally, he just shook his head and made me get something more reliable. You know how he is about safety.”

Anika had a reckless streak that confounded her husband and horrified her son. That’s why we made such a daunting duo—although Deming had another less flattering term for our partnership.

She stepped on the accelerator and made that jungle cat roar. By ignoring several vulgar hand signals and bleating horns from other drivers, Anika eased into traffic and headed toward Belmont.

“Did you buy that fainting act?” I asked. “Surely Heather knew what Justin Ming was up to? She’s a prime suspect in my book. I think her pride took a shellacking when she realized that her body and her money were being used. Besides, what were she and Phaedra fighting about if not that?”

Anika shrugged. “Love is blind, as they say, and lust is doubly so. She was very convincing about that blood though, don’t you think? I watched her reaction, and she was clearly shocked.”

“Maybe she’s a sociopath,” I said. “Supposedly they pass lie detector tests with flying colors. That would make it fairly easy to fool us.”

Anika beamed her Mona Lisa smile my way. “Didn’t you ever fib to your mother, Eja? Even a little.”

I dredged my memory banks for guilty secrets. My parents were both academics, philosophy professors who believed in abstractions and syllogisms rather than conventional child rearing. They were rationalists who forbade me almost nothing. As a result, I was a studious little prig who rarely strayed from the straight and narrow. Things changed when I hooked up with Cecilia Swann and her dark twin, but even then my mother regarded my antics with amused tolerance. In short, I had no need to lie.

“Eja—are you okay?” Anika swerved onto Storrow Drive and stepped on the gas.

“Sorry. I was pondering your question.”

“No matter. My point was that most children fib to their mothers quite often, and that gives one a sixth sense about lying. Bolin always says that I have a truth detector in my brain. That’s why I believe Heather.”

“Loaning a man money is bad business,” I said. “Your body, maybe, but never let them into your purse. More great advice from the Bard.”

Anika laughed and executed a sudden U-turn into the Exley driveway. “Here we are. Po is already here. Heather probably went upstairs.”

I locked eyes with Anika. “We really should check on Heather. Don’t you agree?”

She parked the Jag and hopped out. “Sure. It’s only polite. If Portia is around, we can say hello.”

We hadn’t discussed my encounter with Fleur yet. Even though she hadn’t rejected our proposal outright, I was having second thoughts. Even in college Fleur loved to keep one dangling until the last possible moment. She was heavily into power plays, especially when they involved other females. All things considered, Portia might be an easier target. She fit every stereotype of the dull-as-dishwater accountant more enamored of debits than desire. Yet I recalled the malicious gleam in her eyes when Phaedra’s name was mentioned. That suggested that Portia, the down and out family retainer, might be ready for adventure.

Anika greeted Carlisle and asked for Ms. Shaw. As a well-trained servant, the butler wouldn’t think of questioning Mrs. Bolin Swann or her motives. He gave me the fisheye.

We were ushered into a small parlor furnished exclusively with sofas and chairs in various patterns of chintz. In another era, ladies would have fanned themselves, exchanged confidences, and received their visitors in such a space.

“What a surprise!”

It was impossible to tell how Portia Amory Shaw meant that remark. As usual she was clothed in a shapeless shift that gave new meaning to the term nondescript.

Anika recovered quickly. “We didn’t want to intrude, but since Mrs. Exley got ill during lunch, we thought you should know. She probably wouldn’t mention it otherwise.”

“You’re joking,” Portia said. “Heather loves drama. She feeds off it.”

“Not like those of us who work for a living,” I said. “We don’t have that luxury.”

She gazed at me, surprise mingled with a healthy dollop of respect. “Exactly.”

“Speaking of work,” Anika said. “Eja and I have a proposition to make. It presumes that you don’t mind doing financial analysis.”

“And that you can keep it to yourself,” I added. “This matter is confidential. Just the three of us.”

Portia’s dour features brightened. “Oh, I can keep a secret. Believe me.”

We spent the next twenty minutes outlining our fantasy takeover of Shaolin City and her role in the process. As Anika embellished, her enthusiasm grew to the point that even I got excited.

“This is our project, understand. No men allowed. Eja and I will be the primary investors, and the current staff will manage the property.”

Portia put on her CPA hat and nodded. “You’ll want to form a subchapter S Corp. All the small businesses do that. But let me get this straight—exactly what do you want from me?”

“An assessment of the financial health of the business and the owner.” I paused. “And here’s the tricky part. You have to do it without tipping off Master Moore.”

A frown knitted Portia’s brow as her green eyeshade descended. “Master Moore?”

Anika nodded solemnly. “Master Avery Moore. He’s the owner, a venerable martial arts master and respected teacher.”

“Gee, I don’t know. That’s pretty tough these days with privacy laws.”

“Surely there are public records, filings and such that anyone can access. Don’t you run credit checks through the foundation?” I rummaged in my purse and found the information packet that all Shaolin City clients received. “Here. This might help you.”

I could tell that Portia was intrigued. The poor woman’s life was probably so dull that any respite was welcome. When Anika mentioned a suitable fee, I knew that we had her hooked.

“Let me poke around on the Internet,” Portia said. “I might be able to help you.”

Anika rose and made our excuses. “I’m afraid we have to run. Please contact me or Eja if you learn anything.”

We congratulated ourselves on a successful venture, dissecting our day in hushed whispers. After stopping at my place to pick up Cato, we headed for the Swann homestead feeling triumphant and a bit cocky. After all, our detective work had yielded some important clues. Heather’s explanation of the blood bore some scrutiny, but it seemed genuine as did her shock at the relationship between Phaedra and Justin Ming. If true, someone else murdered Phaedra, someone who had access to the locker room, or was bold enough to risk being discovered in a fairly public place. That narrowed the field but shed a blinding spotlight on spurned lover Horton Exley and the nefarious Justin Ming.

Instead of plaudits, an unpleasant surprise awaited us the moment we reached Swannland. Bolin, Deming, and a redheaded quisling with a pixie cut were huddled over the library table plotting our doom. I assessed the situation the moment I saw Fleur Pixley. That traitorous minx had revealed our scheme to the last person on earth I hoped to involve. Anticipation is usually my strong point, but I’d forgotten just how desperate Fleur was to curry favor with Deming. So much for female solidarity—sisterhood, be damned!