i 9fb2c9db4068b52a (37 page)

“What kind of person leaves a dog outside at this time of night?” Lillian exclaimed, scrambling to get around Claudia’s other side.

“My neighbor works down at Cowboys until the bar closes at two,” Claudia explained as she led Lillian up the stairs. “After everything that’s happened to me lately, she feels safer leaving Flare in the front yard while she’s not home.”

“She’d be just as safe with a dog like that inside the house.”

Claudia unlocked the front door and deactivated the alarm.

“Is that floor teak?” Lillian asked admiringly, giving the living room the once-over, like a buyer on a shopping trip.

“Yes, it came from an old ship’s deck.”

“
Very
nice.”

“What would you like to drink, Lillian? I have wine and vodka. That’s about it for alcohol.”

“I’d love a vodka martini.”

Claudia left her on the couch and fixed their drinks.

“Bless you, honey,” Lillian said when she brought them back to the living room. “You must be freezing. Why don’t you put something warmer on.”

Wearing a pair of fleece sweat pants and a sweatshirt, Claudia crossed her bedroom, catching sight of her image in the mirror. Without the black wig, the heavy eyeliner and pale makeup gave her face an eerie look.
Ghostly.

She removed the bobby pins and was shaking out her hair when the fax machine rang in the office.

“There you are,” Lillian said, her smile pure southern comfort. “Like I said, we’ve got a lot to talk about. Sit down, dear, and drink up.” As if she were the gracious host and Claudia the guest.

Settling into one of the wicker armchairs across from the couch where Lillian was nursing her drink, Claudia sipped her drink and waited.

“I’ve worked hard to create what I have,” Lillian said. A startling look of pain filled her eyes. “I started with nothing. Nothing at all. Alcoholic daddy; mama ran off when I was ten. I built my own little empire. That’s why I chose to be Elizabeth I tonight.” She raised her glass. “Let’s make a toast. To Lindsey, may she rest in peace.”

“That seems a little odd under the circumstances,” Claudia said, leaning across the coffee table to touch Lillian’s glass.

Without warning, southern charm evaporated and Lillian’s eyes burned like twin bonfires. “Okay, let’s get down to brass tacks,” she said in a voice as cold as a glacial wind sweeping through the room, clearing away every trace of amiability. “I want to know
exactly
what Yolande told you.” Claudia stared at her in amazement. She swallowed some of her martini, wondering how to respond.

“What’s the problem, Lillian? I was just telling Yolande about a little trip I’m planning.” Her ability to lie on demand was improving.

Lillian’s gaze had a depth of anger that went far beyond a reaction to a breach of confidentiality. “Don’t take me for stupid, I heard enough to figure it out. Yolande knows better than to talk about what goes on in my office.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. If she said something she shouldn’t have, it went over my head.”

Lillian sighed deeply and sat back, examining her manicure. Short, squared-off nails on small, practical hands. “I’m disappointed in you. You’re lying.”

Claudia put her glass down on the coffee table, rose from her chair and started for the front door. “Thanks for the ride, Lillian. This conversation is over. Now, I’d like you to leave.”

But Lillian remained where she was. “Don’t you want to know what
really
happened to Lindsey?” she asked in a teasing voice, casually swinging one knee over the other.

Claudia paused, hand on the doorknob. She stared at Lillian’s leg, which was bouncing back and forth with a metronome beat. “How would
you
know what
‘really happened’
”

“Because I was there the night she died.”

“
You
were at her apartment?”

“That’s right.”

The wicker creaked as Claudia sat back down, feeling like the rodent in a life-sized cat and mouse game. “Okay, I’ll bite. What happened?”

“Oh, come on, ask some more questions. You’re very good at asking questions.”

Claudia narrowed her eyes. “Was she alive when you saw her?”

“Yes.”

“Was anyone else there?”

“No.”

A spurt of white-hot anger shot up Claudia’s spine, and all the stress and tension that had been building seemed to explode in her head. “To hell with your little game and to hell with you, Lillian. Either tell me what happened or...” The naked hatred that poisoned Lillian’s face shocked her into silence. “You just couldn’t let it go, could you? The police believed she killed herself. Everyone else was happy with that, but it wasn’t good enough for
you
. You just had to keep on probing.”

“You know that Ivan hired me to...”

“But even after Ivan was dead, you couldn’t drop it.” Lillian snorted inelegantly. “Oh, for pity’s sake, don’t look at me like that. I don’t know anything about
Ivan’
s death.”

Claudia thrust her hand into her pocket and took out the pages Jovanic had just faxed to her. She held them out. “Why don’t
you
tell
me
the truth, Lillian?”

Lillian took the papers and stared at them for a long time, the color draining from her face, leaving it pasty-white. Finally, she said in a flat tone, “I never guessed she would save that.”

Her hand fell to her side, clutching a faxed copy of a greeting card, with a scribbled note from Jovanic, asking whether Claudia could identify the unsigned handwriting.

The bloated letter
f
bursting out in an otherwise perfectly school-model script immediately identified it as Lillian’s handwriting. The text was another shocker:

“‘A wild, wicked, weekend! I never would have believed that kind of ecstasy was possible.’”

The second sheet was a letter from American Airlines, which detailed the items Jovanic had subpoenaed from the passenger manifests.

“You went to her place in Mexico.” Lillian’s gaze slid over Claudia’s shoulder, refusing to meet her eyes. “I knew you’d put it together sooner or later.”

“I’m surprised you’d take that kind of chance with your career over a lover.”

“We all make stupid mistakes. This was mine. Where did you get this?”

“Detective Jovanic just faxed it to me. They opened her safety deposit box today. So, she was blackmailing you, too?”

“
Blackmailing
me?” Lillian gave a contemptuous snort and dropped the papers on the coffee table. “She introduced me to many things, but
blackmail
certainly wasn’t one of them.”

“Then, why would she keep your letter in her lockbox?”

“Sentimental reasons, maybe. Assuming Lindsey had a sentimental bone in her egotistical body.”

“Sentimental?” Something wasn’t adding up, but Claudia was having trouble grasping just what it was. “So, she arranged for you to go Mexico... with whom? Bryce Heidt?”

The look Lillian gave her was incredulous. “Go to Mexico with
Bryce?
What, for pity’s sake are you talking about?”

Claudia was beginning to feel like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. “He was her client. She was a dominatrix.”

“Lindsey was a... a... wait a minute. You’re saying that Bryce paid her for... for...?”

“Kinky sex,” Claudia supplied. “Bondage. The videotapes I told you about that day in your office. I thought he had Lindsey killed to put a stop to the blackmail, but after tonight... were you his lover?”

Lillian threw back her head, and laughed without humor. “Oh, Claudia dear, I thought you were so clever.” Her mouth twisted into a grotesque smile. “We’ve both made a very
big
mistake. And that’s the only time you’ll ever hear me admit it.”

Confused, Claudia recalled Yolande’s words. “Then, was Martin having an affair with her?”

“Martin?” Lillian gaped at her. “My husband? Martin couldn’t get it up with a box of Viagra! Besides, Lindsey scared the bejesus out of him.”

In a blinding flash of clarity, it all became crystal clear.

Oh, my God! Why didn’t I see it before?

“Not Heidt... not Martin...
you
and Lindsey were lovers.” Lillian gave a delicate shudder. “That’s exactly what I can’t have people saying. It would ruin me privately, socially, financially, politically...
especially
politically.”

Claudia blinked. Lillian Grainger, the devoted wife. Lillian, the church-going, oh-so-righteous Christian. Lillian, whose employees were required to live up to the rigid moral standards she had set for them. Lillian, the squeaky-clean political hopeful.
Lillian, in a lesbian relationship with Lindsey?
The idea almost made her laugh. Except that Lindsey was dead.

Another realization rolled over her with sledgehammer force. “
You
killed her!”

Lillian laughed again, unbearably smug. “She was much bigger than me, like you are. But she was already halfway to oblivion when I arrived... she did love her drugs, that girl. That made it easy. I just slipped a little something extra in her glass.” She spoke proudly, as if she had done something praiseworthy. “Then I got her into the Jacuzzi and held her under. It took a little longer than I expected, but not all that long.”

A wave of nausea swept over Claudia and she closed her eyes. “The note... I knew it was her handwriting.”

“‘It was fun while it lasted,’” Lillian quoted, mocking. “How dare she think she could blow me off that way?
I
decide when it’s over. Making it look like a suicide note was such a nice touch, don’t you think? She would have told everyone, you know. I couldn’t take that chance.”

Lillian picked up the glasses and carried them into the kitchen. Claudia sat there immobilized with shock, listening to the faucet running, the crystal clinking musically as Lillian washed the glasses and replaced them inside the cabinet.

“We wouldn’t want your boyfriend noticing you’d had company, would we, dear?” she said in a friendly tone when she re-emerged from the kitchen. She walked behind Claudia’s chair.

Then, a sudden, sharp pain at the back of her head; her vision dimmed.

Claudia opened her eyes with effort. Lillian was leaning over her, peering at her. Where had the little pistol in her hand come from?

Claudia reached up and touched the back of her head. Lillian must have hit her with the gun. She tried to push herself out of the chair, but her head felt stuffed with cotton candy, her arms and legs rubbery.

“Get up, Miss Claudia. I want you easy to control, not unconscious.”

“You—won’t—get—away—with—it.”

“I got away with killing Lindsey, and I
will
get away with killing you, too. If they want to believe Bryce did it, that’s fine with me. That note I wrote her doesn’t prove anything, even if it
was
in her safety deposit box.”

Claudia fell back in the armchair. Lillian tugged at her. “Come on, honey, you’re going for a midnight swim. Just like Lindsey, only you’ll have a much
bigger
pool.”

Lillian jammed the gun hard against Claudia’s neck, the barrel connecting painfully behind her ear. She jerked Claudia to her feet, surprisingly strong for her size.

“With all the attacks you’ve been yammering on about, one more won’t seem so strange. Everyone knows you were being followed. That’s so convenient for me. You foolishly went for a walk on the beach... someone followed you again...” She cocked the hammer. “This pistol may be small, but believe me, it’s big enough to kill you. Get up and get outside, now. Before you pass out, you stupid damn bitch.”

Claudia swayed as a wave of vertigo nearly felled her. The pain in her head was excruciating. Lillian grabbed her arm and half-pushed, half-dragged her to the front door. They headed down the steps, the business end of the little gun pressing into Claudia’s side.

On the last step Claudia stumbled, instinctively grabbed at the railing. A thick splinter of wood stabbed her palm and sent a lighting bolt of pain up her arm, making her cry out. A reviving rush of adrenaline gave her a second wind.

In the yard next door, Flare barked.

“Flare, come!” Claudia shouted. At least, she had intended to shout, but only a thin whisper sounded on the cold salt air. Still, the dog heard. The barking grew louder, more insistent.

Lillian slammed Claudia’s head into the wall of the house. “Shut up!”

Barking, snarling, the German Shepherd came bounding across the grass until she ran out of chain.

“Get in the car,” Lillian ordered. “Hurry up!”

One clear thought slid into Claudia’s consciousness and remained there:
If I have to die tonight, it won’t be in the cold surf
. Marshaling every shred of strength she had, she twisted away and shoved Lillian to the ground.

The gun flew out of Lillian’s hand and landed with a soft thud under one of the hydrangea bushes that edged the side of the house. She scrambled to her feet, cursing, and headed for the bush.

Flare hurled herself forward. Once, twice, three times, she leapt, jerking her chain each time. Claudia stumbled over to the Shepherd. “Flare, come!”

The earth erupted. The post that held her chain broke free and the big dog vaulted across the lawn, dragging the chain behind her.

Rearing on hind legs, the dog knocked Lillian to the ground. Yellow fangs bared, centimeters above her throat. Lillian’s features twisted in terror as saliva dripped from the snapping jaws.

Claudia fell to her hands and knees. The gun—she had to find the gun. She inched her way across the grass, her sweatpants soaked with dew. There it was—no bigger than a toy, but with the stopping power of a much larger weapon.

Surely, someone must have called the cops by now.
But no one came outside to see what Lillian’s panicked screams were about.

Welcome to LA.

A vehicle swung around the corner tires screeching, and stopped behind Lillian’s Lexus. The glare of headlights turned Claudia’s front yard into a grim tableau.