Murder Most Finicky (13 page)

Chapter 25

With the cake cooling on the counter and Leo whipping up some vegetable miracle, Stan went back to her room and gave Nutty some meatballs. She had a few minutes to try the numbers Caitlyn had given her before she had to leave to meet her sister. She sat down with the phone and pulled out the list. May as well start with the most obvious. She dialed the Florida number and waited, holding her breath, for Kyle's wife to answer. After four rings, a machine picked up. Relieved, Stan disconnected. She hadn't been looking forward to that call.

There were three other numbers on the sheet. Two guys and one woman. She started with the first one, a man named Brett Joyce. Brett didn't answer. His voice mail didn't sound friendly. Stan didn't leave a message. The second guy, Travis no-last-name, answered on the first ring. He sounded like he was jogging.

“Hello, is this Travis?” Stan asked.

“Yes. Who's this?”

She took a deep breath and prepared to wing it. “Hi, my name is Kristan. I'm one of Kyle McLeod's colleagues, and I'm hoping you can help me—”

“Whoa,” Travis interrupted. “Did you see the news? That Kyle's in trouble?”

“I did. That's why I'm calling, actually.”

“What'd you say your name was again?” Travis asked. He sounded like he'd slowed to a walk.

“Kristan.”

“How do you know Kyle?”

“Through school.”

“And how'd you get my number?”

Shoot. She didn't have a good answer for that one.

“Through a friend of his,” she said. “I'm just wondering if he contacted you or any of your friends Thursday night.”

Travis sounded on guard now. “Not me,” he said. “How do I know you're not the police?”

“I'm not, but if you know something about his whereabouts, you really should call them,” Stan said.

Travis seemed to consider that. “I don't. Did you try his girlfriend?”

So much for discretion, Caitlyn.
“I'm not sure who you mean.”

Travis laughed. “Are you a girlfriend, too? Sorry. Hard to keep track. Kyle's kind of a player.”

Just what she'd been afraid of. “No. I'm not,” she said. “But if you have a name, that would be awesome.”

“One sec.” He took the phone away from his ear, presumably to scroll for a name and number. “Andrea Martin,” he said when he came back. He rattled off a number.

Andrea Martin?
Not Caitlyn, not even Lucy Keyes. This guy got around. This would be a fun debrief with Caitlyn.

“Thanks,” she said. “Any other thoughts on where he could've gone?”

“Nope,” Travis said. “We weren't that tight. He lives in Florida, though. Boca.”

Stan thanked him and hung up. She tried Andrea Martin's number. No answer. She tried the last woman on the sheet Caitlyn had given her, someone named Lena Cruz. No answer there either.

She grabbed her bag and left the hotel. Heat shimmered off the pavement in the parking lot as the day baked in the sun. Perfect beach day. She should ditch this whole thing, go buy a bikini, and head to First Beach. But since ditching things wasn't in her nature, she stayed on plan and pointed her car toward town.

Her cell phone rang again. She glanced at the readout. Jessie Pasquale. She hit the button for her hands-free system. “Hello.”

“So I found a Lucy Keyes with an address in Jamestown,” Jessie said.

Near Stan's hometown. And not far from Newport.

“There's a silver BMW X3 registered to that name and address,” Jessie continued.

Bingo.
“Any other cars?”
Like a blue Honda?

“No. But I don't think it's the right person,” Jessie said.

“You don't? Why?”

“This person has no other names associated with her. Doesn't seem like they've ever been married, so can't be your friend's ex-wife,” Jessie said pointedly.

Busted. “Maybe he meant ex-girlfriend,” Stan said. “I'll have to clarify. But that's really helpful, Jess, thanks so much.” She hung up, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and focused on navigating through town. Heavy traffic today. Saturday in Newport during the Jazz Festival, not to mention prime summer vacations. Those who weren't going to the beach would go downtown to shop, or tour the mansions, where they could get out of the heat for a while. She opened her sunroof and all her windows despite the temperature and took in a deep breath of the sea air. She wished she could be one of those people enjoying a beautiful place on a beautiful day. But today, everything—and everyone—around her seemed seedy and suspicious. Including her cohorts, who were full of secrets, from mental illness to jealousy to evil publicists.

Chapter 26

Stan pulled into the Grounds of Hope parking lot ten minutes late. Caitlyn sat in her car out front, alone. Stan went up to the window and knocked. Caitlyn's window buzzed down. Stan could tell her sister's eyes were puffy, like she'd been crying, even behind the dark glasses.

“You're late,” Caitlyn said, her voice raw.

Stan nodded. “Sorry. Listen, let's take a ride. Want me to drive?”

“Just get in,” Caitlyn said.

Stan had barely gotten her door shut when Caitlyn hit the gas, zooming out of the parking lot. Taking the turn on two wheels, she almost careened into a white pickup truck entering the parking lot.

“Jeez. Take it easy,” Stan said, grabbing for her seat belt.

“Why are the police making it sound like Kyle killed this guy?” Caitlyn fumbled for a tissue and blew her nose with one hand, jerking the car from stops to starts as they drove into the heart of Newport.

“They can't find him, Caitlyn. Wherever he is, he isn't coming forward. It looks bad.” Stan didn't mention the probable murder weapon found in the Dumpster behind Kyle's apartment. The police might not release that information. Plus Caitlyn would probably throw herself off the Pell Bridge.

“Where am I going?” Caitlyn said.

“Let's park and walk the Cliff Walk. We can get some privacy there.” True enough, but selfishly Stan also wanted to be outside. She felt claustrophobic, both with Sheldon and his gang and in this situation with Caitlyn's separate but related problem.

“Walk?” Caitlyn looked stricken. “I have heels on.”

“You'll be fine. We'll stay on the paved section.” Of the three-point-five-mile trail, the rocky terrain existed at the south side. The north side was paved. She left no room for argument. Caitlyn seemed to sense that she would lose, so she said nothing. She managed to shoehorn her car into a street spot not far from the entrance above First Beach, and they walked there in silence.

“What's wrong?” Caitlyn asked once they'd turned onto the narrow path, passing the back entrance to The Chanler hotel. “Did something else happen you're not telling me?”

Stan waited until a group of giggling teen girls had passed before speaking. “Have you been to the Newport Premier with Kyle before?” she asked.

Caitlyn shook her head.

“Do you know Lucy Keyes?” she asked. “The hotel manager?”

“No. Should I?”

“Did Kyle ever mention her?”

“
No.
Why are you asking me about the hotel?”

“Does Kyle have more than one vehicle?”

“Not that I know of. What's going on, Stan?”

A woman on a power-walking mission powered around them, giving Caitlyn's shoes a dirty look on her way past. Caitlyn didn't notice.

Stan looked out over the water. This first stretch of the walk was her favorite, with only bushes separating the walk from the cliff's edge and unencumbered views of the sea below. Signs warning “Caution, Steep Cliffs, High Risk of Injury” and depicting people in various degrees of falling were the only indicator that anything bad could happen in such a beautiful place. Tiny, nearly hidden steps in the bushes led up to some of the side streets bordering the walk. “I tried calling those people on your list.”

Caitlyn stopped. “You did? Did you get anywhere?” She looked so hopeful Stan felt sorry for her. Even more so given the news she was about to break.

“The only person I could get was Travis. You know him?”

“We went out with Travis and his girlfriend a couple times.”

“I asked him if he knew where Kyle might've gone and he asked if I'd tried his girlfriend.”

Caitlyn's face paled.

“It wasn't you,” Stan said. “The name he gave me was Andrea Martin. You know her?”

“Andrea?” Caitlyn laughed. Not the reaction Stan expected. “What crap.” She started walking again, keeping close to the side that bordered the mansions' broad yards. Despite the light foot traffic today, the skinny path drove Stan to fall in step behind her sister instead of next to her, making it difficult to read her expressions. “Andrea used to throw herself at him. She was another student. I know he took her out a couple of times before we got together, but certainly not after. Travis and Andrea were friends; that's why he's saying that. Jerk.”

Stan didn't know how to respond to that. She turned to the water, admiring the view. She especially loved the nooks and crannies of the Cliff Walk like the Forty Steps where you could walk down almost into the ocean, it seemed, and feel the spray of the waves. Of course Caitlyn wouldn't want to think Kyle was two-timing her, on top of their two-timing of their own spouses. Plus she got the sense her sister actually cared about this guy. Which surprised her. Aside from Eva and her manicurist, Caitlyn didn't usually attach to people. Even as a kid she'd been more interested in the things money could buy. She'd done well following their mother's lead. Stan had always been more like her father. During family visits to her grandmother—her father's mother—out in California when she and Caitlyn were young, she'd be outside with her gram feeding homemade food to the neighborhood stray cats while Caitlyn had been in the house playing dress up with her mother's makeup and high heels. She'd thought Stan was silly for spending time out on the front porch feeding other people's cats. Stan thought Caitlyn was silly for spending all her time in front of a mirror. It became the standard for their relationship over the years—no animosity, just different values that led them down different paths.

“You said you talked to Kyle after the murder. Did you talk to him earlier that day? Like before he went to Sheldon's?” she finally asked Caitlyn.

Caitlyn thought back, then slowly shook her head again. “No. I tried calling him a couple times, but got no answer. I knew he was leaving for the weekend thing, so I didn't think much of it. I figured he was, you know, packing and stuff. Can we turn around, please?”

They'd made it just past the first right-of-way. From here on, the paths narrowed even more and fencing protected visitors from a steep fall. Stan did an about-face, thinking. Kyle could have been packing, cleaning his house, all the things normal people did when they got ready to leave for a few days. Or, he could've been doing something much more sinister. Like arranging a meeting with Pierre.

“Have you ever heard of a woman chef named Vaughn Dawes?”

Caitlyn looked blank. “Nope.”

“Did Kyle make a lot of pizza?”

“
What?
How am I supposed to know that? He doesn't give me a menu of what he does every night. Once he did a class on vegan pizza, but it was just one recipe in a long line of them. Why?”

“Just wondering.”
Wondering if you'd ever seen him use the murder weapon on anything edible.
“Caitlyn, I'd be prepared for the cops to call,” Stan said. “They're going to pull his phone records if they haven't already, and you'll be one of his last calls before he vanished.”

Caitlyn stopped dead in her tracks. “No. Why would I have to talk to the cops? I had nothing to do with his disappearance!”

“No, but they're looking for him hard. Which means you're probably going to get caught in the crossfire.”

Caitlyn stopped walking and hugged herself, looking out over the ocean. The waves broke angrily on the rocks below them, rough despite the current stillness of the air. “I just wanted to be with someone who loved me for a change,” she said, so softly Stan could barely hear her.

“I know. I'm sorry, honey.” Stan put her arm around her sister. “What happened to you and Michael?”

“We grew apart. He works a lot, and when he's home, well, he doesn't pay much attention to us. He's got his friends, and his sailboat races, and he never has time. You don't know anything about it,” Caitlyn said, trying to keep the haughty tone. “Your boyfriend would do anything for you, I've heard.” Stan heard the slight catch in her voice, saw the tremble in her hands.

“Jake? How do you know about Jake?”

“Mom told me. She said he really loves you. And that he's supersweet. Oh, screw it.” Caitlyn stepped away, wiping at her eyes.

Her mother had said
that
? About Jake? She didn't think a “simple guy”—by her mother's definition—like Jake would've garnered any kind of positive press from Patricia Connor. She would prefer if Stan dated a politician or a stockbroker. By contrast, Patricia adored Michael and his financial powerhouse career.

“Do you think Michael suspects?” Stan asked.

“I don't see how,” Caitlyn said. “As I said, he's hardly ever around.”

“When he is, are you?”

“Most of the time, sure.”

“What about Eva?” Stan asked. They exited the Cliff Walk and paused, waiting for the traffic to let up so they could cross the street.

“What about her? Eva's fine. It has nothing to do with her. He loves Eva.”

“It'll have a lot to do with her when her family splits up,” Stan said.

Caitlyn thrust her chin out defiantly. “She'll hardly notice the difference. Michael's always traveling. And I know he has girlfriends on the side. So why shouldn't I find someone who actually wants to be around me?” She abruptly turned the corner and began walking back up the street toward their car, her gait surprisingly quick given her shoes. She didn't wait for Stan.

Stan followed more slowly. If her sister would give her a chance to say so, she'd tell her of course she should be around someone who reciprocates her feelings. She just had to make sure it was the right person—something she hadn't figured out for a long time. As she slid into the passenger seat, her cell phone dinged, signaling a text message. Tyler. And he didn't have good news.