Last Whisper (27 page)

“And one pecan pie and one cheesecake,” Vincent ended.

The girl behind the counter smiled. “One piece each, sir?”

“A whole pecan pie and a whole cheesecake. And lots of strawberry syrup for the cheesecake.” He turned to Brooke. “Can you think of anything else?”

“Is this dinner for two or are we feeding a third-world country?”

He turned back to the girl at the counter. “She’s thin, but believe me, she could eat a horse.”

The girl smiled uncertainly at Brooke and turned away, handing the order sheet into the kitchen. Brooke glared at Vincent. “She’s going to think most of that is for me.”

“We’ll give some to Elise.”

“Either you’re crazy or you’re planning something I don’t know about.”

“You have about twenty minutes until we get back to your place. Then you can decide.”

Brooke turned away, self-conscious, but admitting to herself she was famished. Vincent was right—she hadn’t eaten a bite all day. It was now almost seven in the evening and Brooke could feel that at any moment her stomach was going to let out a ferocious growl.

Twenty minutes later they climbed out of Vincent’s car, each carrying bags of food, Brooke leading Elise, who seemed to have a new spring in her step after her wonderful day.

As soon as they entered the lobby, Harry Dormer descended upon them. “Hey, whatever you got in those bags smells great! Havin’ a party? Me and Eunice are free tonight, no big plans.”

“We’re not having a party,” Vincent said pleasantly. “We’re just hungry.”

“Damn, you must be! Looks like you got enough stuff for ten people in there. Do I smell chicken? Kentucky Fried, I bet. I
love
Kentucky Fried chicken!”

He stood by, throwing them his most charming smile, which wasn’t saying much, but each politely ignored him. “Did anyone stop by to see me today, Harry?” Brooke asked.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to be invited to dinner, Harry immediately turned surly. “Wouldn’t know. I’m
not
the doorman. I have important stuff to do all day besides watch who comes and goes.”

“I understand,” Brooke said, pretending not to notice his sulky look. “How’s Eunice today?”

“Same as usual, I guess.” He gave the bags of food one last longing glance. “Guess I better go give her an insulin shot. Looks like after all these years, she could manage it herself.”

“She probably just feels more confident with you giving it to her,” Vincent said. “Steady hands, unflinching in the sight of blood. You know how women admire that kind of thing.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, somewhat appeased and only a bit suspicious that Vincent was patronizing him. “She can’t get along without me, but she can be a real millstone around your throat.”

“Neck,” Vincent said.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“A millstone around your neck. That’s the saying.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t fool around learning literary sayings,” he said dismissively. “Well, have a good time with
all
that food.”

“We will,” Vincent assured him cheerfully.

“He’s going to be seething all evening,” Brooke muttered as they got in the elevator.

“He probably is anyway. I get the feeling Harry’s not too happy with his life.”

“Eunice thinks he has a mistress.”

Vincent burst out laughing. “One who looks like Catherine Zeta-Jones and has the mind of Einstein, no doubt. Eunice doesn’t know how lucky she is Harry doesn’t run off with this dream woman.”

“I don’t know how accurate the word ‘lucky’ is.”

They stepped off on the third floor and walked down the hall. As they passed Stacy and Jay’s door, Vincent kicked it lightly twice, his arms full of food, and yelled, “Dinner’s here!”

Immediately the door flew open and Jay stood there, grinning. “Thought we’d starve to death before you got here.”

“What’s going on?” Brooke asked.

“When we left the airport and you went in the hospital to see your grandmother, I called Jay and asked if he and Stacy were up for a real Saturday night blowout with a couple of wild spirits like us.”

“And it took me about two seconds to say yes,” Jay laughed. “Hey, Stace, they’re here! Bring the margaritas.” He looked at Brooke. “She made a whole pitcher.”

A party, Brooke thought, touched. Vincent was determined to entertain her all day to keep her mind off the fright she’d suffered at Mia’s funeral. It was sweet. It was romantic. It was scary.

Ten minutes later Brooke and Stacy were busy unpacking what seemed like an endless amount of food and putting it on plates while the men watched a cop show in the living
room, each already holding a margarita. “I had no idea Vincent was arranging this,” Brooke said to Stacy.

Stacy grinned, adding a hot wing to what she’d deemed would be Jay’s plate. “I think he’s smitten, Brooke.”

“That’s silly. He’s only known me a couple of days.”

“Jay and I fell for each other in about twenty-four hours. We had a date, stayed up all night talking, called each other back and forth throughout the next day, and by that evening, my fate was sealed. I knew I’d be Mrs. Jay Corrigan within the next month, and I was right.”

“You’re impulsive, though,” Brooke said. “I’m not.”

“Then maybe you should loosen up a little bit,” Stacy said, handing her a margarita with one hand and picking up Jay’s plate with the other. “Virtue is
not
its own reward, no matter what they say.”

“Stacy, I just
met
him! Besides, I thought you were suspicious of him.”

“I changed my mind when he brought us dinner. Besides, he’s got a cool car.”

“You are
so
deep.”

“You have no idea,” Stacy said, sounding a tad serious in spite of her grin. “Honestly, maybe he isn’t such a bad guy to have a fling with, especially after Robert. But I’d still watch myself with him, Brooke. He’s extremely attentive for a guy who’s just met you, coincidentally on the day when you were shot at.”

“You’re not saying you think he tried to kill me!”

“No, I don’t think he tried to kill you.” Stacy paused. “I’d just watch myself around him, if I were you. He’s damned attractive and successful and charming—”

“So what’s he doing hanging around me?”

Stacy rolled her eyes. “Are you trying to pick a fight?”

“No, but you just seem so amazed that he’s ‘attentive’ to me, as you put it.”

“I’m not amazed. You’re a beautiful woman. It’s just that he writes about famous murder cases. ‘The Rose Murder’ wasn’t exactly on the level of the O. J. Simpson case, but
now that Zach Tavell is out and apparently after you, your appeal for Mr. True Crime Writer out there might have grown.” Stacy closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m saying this all wrong. It’s coming out like an insult, and I certainly didn’t mean it that way. I’m just telling you—”

“To watch myself around him. You already said that.”

“I wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken, Brooke.”

“I won’t.” Brooke lifted her chin slightly and said with spirit, “I’m not even all that attracted to him. He’s simply a nice change after Robert. He’s lively and fun. And like you said, he’s got a cool car.”

Stacy laughed. “That’s a girl! Just have a good time with him. And when he goes back to California—”

“I’ll look for an equally attractive, successful, charming man. They’re all over the place.”

“They
are
, if you’d just stop being such a recluse. After all, I met one.” Stacy smiled at her affectionately. “Never mind me, kiddo. I just want the best for you. And maybe this guy is as sincere as he seems to be. I certainly hope so. A romance between you two would be fantastic, just what you deserve.”

Brooke couldn’t remember a time when her apartment had been filled with so much noise and gaiety. Ever since she’d moved in, she’d lived quietly. Although she’d dated some, Stacy and Jay had never joined her and a boyfriend for an evening.

Elise had been given so many scraps of chicken, she’d eaten herself into a stupor and fallen asleep in her doggie bed after her wildly adventurous day. She kicked and whined a few times in her sleep. “She’s dreaming of chasing rabbits,” Jay said with assurance.

“Why do people always say when dogs make noise in their sleep they’re dreaming of chasing rabbits?” Brooke asked. “I don’t think she’s ever seen a rabbit in her life.”

“It’s genetic memory,” Vincent said in mock seriousness. “She had an ancestor who saw a rabbit. The vision was so terrifying, it passed through generations to Elise.”

“You’ve had too many margaritas,” Brooke laughed. “Jay, he’s cut off.”

“Nonsense. We have enough tequila and mix for another pitcher.”

“Oh, lord,” Brooke moaned. “Do you know what we’re all going to feel like tomorrow?”

“Better than you did this morning,” Stacy said. “I heard about what happened at the funeral.”

“Stace,” Jay said reprovingly.

“Well, not talking about it isn’t going to make her forget it. Why don’t you tell her what you found out today?”

Jay looked reluctant, but Brooke pressed him. “Jay, please. I won’t let it get to me; I promise.”

Jay took a deep breath. “Okay. I understand you not wanting to be kept in the dark. I’m afraid we didn’t find out much and with Myers on the case, you know it’s not for lack of trying. The vase of flowers came from City Floral. Different floral shop than the flower you got at the Lockhart house, but the same MO. Someone called in and ordered the flowers using a credit card. Not the same number, obviously, since the card used before has been canceled. The person who took the order was an older woman who unfortunately doesn’t hear too well. She wasn’t sure if the voice was a high-pitched man’s, or a low-pitched woman’s.”

“Great,” Brooke said in disappointment.

“The woman said she did think it was odd that the caller specified a vase of white roses, not a funeral wreath, and that the vase be delivered to and left in the minister’s office, not put out with the rest of the flowers around Mia’s casket.”

“What about the teenager who brought the flowers to Brooke?” Vincent asked.

Jay shrugged. “We don’t know a thing about her. We checked with everyone who attended the funeral. No one claimed to have brought a girl of that age and description with them. The minister didn’t even see her. His wife did, but she said she was so busy greeting people and getting them seated that she didn’t pay much attention to the girl except to notice how pretty she was. She didn’t ask her name.”

“Did you talk to Mia’s parents?” Brooke asked. “Did they know if she was a friend of Mia’s?”

“The parents couldn’t help, either. You know that Mia still lived at home, yet after we gave them a description, they claimed they’d never seen the girl and they didn’t notice her at the funeral.”

“So she was sent there specifically to give those flowers to me,” Brooke said vaguely, then added, “I have to speak to Mia’s parents after that awful scene I made. It was so disrespectful.”

“They were already seated in the main part of the church and you were in the entrance,” Jay told her. “They said they heard some kind of noise, but with the organ playing and the murmur of people behind them, they didn’t really think much about it. They did wonder why you weren’t there. Apparently Mia had talked a lot about you.”

“I was supposed to have dinner at their house this weekend. It would have been the first time I met them. They must think I’m awful.”

Jay smiled. “I’m sure they don’t. They got your funeral wreath, and they know what you’ve been going through.”

“Which means they know their daughter was killed in my place. Yes, I’m sure they think I’m wonderful,” Brooke said bitterly.

“All right, enough about the flowers,” Vincent said abruptly. “You said you weren’t going to let what Jay told you get to you, and here you are looking like you’re going to cry. Finish your cheesecake.”

“I don’t think I can,” Brooke said waveringly.

Vincent reached for her margarita glass and handed it to her. “Then finish this.” He turned to Jay and Stacy, both looking at Brooke with a mixture of concern and helplessness. “Did she tell you about downing those three beers in record time at our house?” Vincent asked. “I’ll tell you, drinking beer fast makes this woman burp. I mean,
really
burp. You should have heard her!”

“Brooke burps?” Stacy asked, playing along by looking amazed. “I thought she was too ladylike.”

“Good heavens, Stacy, I’m human,” Brooke managed.

“I know, but
burping
? And you were a guest? I can’t believe it!”

“Oh, you’d better believe it all right,” Vincent said. “Scared Elise half to death. Rattled the windows. I think one actually cracked.”

The banter went on for another couple of minutes until Brooke’s imminent tears had vanished, although her feelings about Mia’s parents hadn’t. Did they want to hear from her under the circumstances? Would they be offended if she kept her distance, or would they be insulted, even hostile, if she approached them face-to-face with her sympathy? She’d decide later, she thought. At one time she would have asked her grandmother, who always gave the right advice, but now Brooke was on her own.

The phone rang and Brooke jumped, sloshing part of her drink into her lap. She grabbed for a napkin and began wiping at her jeans while the phone rang a second time.

“I’ll get it,” Stacy said, setting aside her own drink and reaching for the phone on the end table beside her. Without glancing at the caller ID, she picked up the main base before Brooke’s message played on the fourth ring. “Yeager residence,” Stacy said briskly.

Brooke had dried most of the margarita from her jeans before she noticed Vincent and Jay looking at Stacy, whose face had grown stiff as her hand tightened on the receiver. Her lips narrowed and she slammed the handset back on the base. Then she drew a breath, looked around at all the staring faces, quickly adopted a weak attempt at a smile, and announced loudly, “Wrong number!”

“Stacy, that wasn’t a wrong number,” Brooke said.

“Sure it was.” Stacy’s voice had taken on an unnatural firmness. “I’ve been getting them all the time. Some pitiful-sounding guy wanting ‘Lila.’ I keep finding these rambling messages from him on the answering machine. There’s another guy, too. And some old lady who thinks she has her grandson’s number and just gives him hell.”