Say Yes to the Death (8 page)

Chapter 11

“D
eputy Chief Dean!” I breathed a sigh of relief.

I wasn't sure how I rated the deputy chief of police but I had a feeling it was because she knew my mother. I'd met Anna Dean at Cissy's when one of Mother's friends had died unexpectedly. The deputy chief knew Cissy well from all the work my mother did to raise money for the Highland Park Police Department's annual Breakfast in Blue.

“Are you taking my statement?” I asked. “I didn't think that was your kind of thing. Not that I'm complaining.”

In fact, I was relieved.

“Oh, Ms. Kendricks,” she said in that tone my teachers had used at prep school when I was daydreaming or hadn't read the right chapter from my history text the night before. “What on earth have you gotten yourself into? Your mother will be beside herself.”

“You didn't call her, did you?” I said, knowing that Cissy would indeed flip out if she heard I'd been taken down to the Highland Park police station to answer questions about the murder of my Hockaday classmate.

“No, I didn't notify her that you'd been brought here,” the deputy chief assured me as she settled into the chair catty-­corner from mine. “Unless you'd like me to—­”

“No, thank you,” I quickly said. This definitely rated high on the “break it to her gently” scale. I'd explain everything to Cissy later over tea at the house on Beverly Drive when I was sure she had a couple of Xanax handy.

“Why don't you explain how you ended up at Ms. La Belle's office this morning?” the chief deputy asked.

Gripping the table, I leaned forward. “It was one of those wrong place and wrong time situations, or is that right place, wrong time?” I replied in a rush as Anna Dean glanced at some paperwork she'd brought along with her. “It was my bad luck to even run into Olivia yesterday at the stupid wedding. If only I'd told my mother no and stayed home to watch the playoffs.”

“Stupid wedding, the playoffs,” Anna Dean repeated, looking puzzled. “How about you just answer the questions without embellishment?”

I swallowed hard. “I'm sorry. I'm babbling, aren't I?”

“It's all right,” she assured me, then she tried again. “How did you know Ms. La Belle would be at her office on a Sunday morning?” she asked, looking me dead in the eye. “It's not typically a workday.”

“I know, I know, and I wish I hadn't gone. I should have been back at the condo, making pancakes with Malone. I'm sorry, that's not important,” I said and jabbed the heels of my hands into my thighs, realizing I was rambling again. But I was so nervous. “Olivia told me she'd be at her desk at eight. She said she had a wedding later in the day, and Sunday morning was the only time she could work without her assistant hanging around.”

“So you went there for a professional consultation?”

“Me? Oh, God, no,” I said and went on to explain, “I was returning a bridesmaid's dress and shoes that I'd borrowed from her yesterday at Penny Ryan's wedding. That's Senator Vernon Ryan's daughter,” I added, in case Penny Ryan's name alone meant nothing. “I went with Cissy because her fiancé, Stephen, was out of town.”

“So you're a friend of the senator's daughter?”

“Not exactly, she's quite a bit younger,” I said, trying hard not to get too off-­track, “but Cissy's tight with Shelby Ryan, the senator's wife. The wedding was supposed to be late summer but they pushed it up because Penny's prego.” I paused as Deputy Dean cocked her head. “Oh, wow, was that TMI again?”

“Just keep talking,” Anna Dean said, “and I'll try to keep up.”

“I know, it's confusing,” I admitted. “You see, I didn't have the right thing to wear, at least according to Cissy, so she brought me something from Saks that was too tight,” I rattled on. “The stupid dress ripped up the back when I was getting the bride and her hoopskirt out of the toilet. Olivia had the spare bridesmaid's dress because Penny's cousin got pink eye and didn't show up. I didn't want to put on the butt-­ugly thing, but I didn't have a choice, and Olivia didn't want the wedding party to be asymmetrical so she asked me to fill in.”

I stopped to draw a breath.

“I see,” Deputy Dean said, although she didn't appear to see at all.

She gave me a funny, squint-­eyed look and ruffled the paperwork. I tried to read upside-­down but I couldn't make out what was written. Were they notes from the crime scene? My FICA scores? Her career horoscope for the month of April?

“So you went to Ms. La Belle's office around eight o'clock to return a bridesmaid's dress, is that correct?” she summed up, editing out the rest.

“I got there at eight-­fifteen on the nose,” I said.

“Did you call ahead?”

“No,” I replied, “I didn't need to. Olivia specifically told me she'd be there, and she'd threatened to show up at my place if I didn't drop off the dress and shoes first thing. I figured I'd go ahead and get it over with so I didn't ruin my entire Sunday.”

For all the good that had done.

Deputy Dean leaned back in her chair. “And what did you see when you arrived? Be as specific as you can.”

I wet my lips, approaching this one more carefully. “There weren't many other cars in the parking lot but I did notice Millie's SUV. It has a bright pink sign on the window so it's hard to miss.”

She nodded and said, “Go on.”

“I entered the building and went upstairs to Olivia's suite. I heard someone cry out, like they were hurt. My first thought was it was Millie because Olivia had been pretty harsh with her when she'd delivered Penny's cake to the wedding,” I said, the memory fresh in my mind. “The door was unlocked so I walked right in.”

“You saw no one else on the way?”

“No, not a soul,” I confirmed, very sure of my answer. “No one was in the stairwell or hallway or waiting in Olivia's reception area. At least, no one I could see, though it's not like I peered behind doors or checked in the closets or anything.” I paused, collecting my thoughts. “It wasn't until I entered Olivia's office that I saw Millie. She was—­she was standing there, and Olivia was—­” I was about to explain what I'd seen but couldn't get it out. Everything I said seemed to implicate Millie. So I clammed up.

“Olivia was what?” the deputy chief asked, cautious not to lead me. “It's okay, Andy, take your time.”

I was pretty sure that calling me by my first name was a deliberate attempt to make me trust her. I guess it worked well enough because I took a nice deep breath and made myself continue.

“Millie was kneeling beside Olivia with the cake knife in her hand. Olivia was on the floor, covered in blood,” I said, and I imagined I could smell the raw metallic scent all over again. My stomach pitched but I kept it together. “Millie looked petrified. She told me she'd found Olivia with the knife in her throat. Millie had pulled the knife out trying to help her. There were balled-­up fabric samples on the floor that she'd tried to use to stop the blood flow. Why would she have done that if she'd meant to kill her? Why wouldn't she have just run?”

I had to pause and swallow.

“Was Olivia La Belle alive when you arrived?”

“No,” I said and shook my head. “At least, I don't think so. Millie said she'd checked for a pulse and that Olivia was dead. She
looked
dead to me.”

“But you didn't see what happened, any of it?”

“No.” I raised my chin. “But I don't believe Millie Draper committed murder. She doesn't have it in her. The woman baked my first birthday cake and every cake after until I was sixteen. She's about as nonviolent as anyone I've ever met.”

“Hmm,” Deputy Dean said and wrote something down on the paperwork. “How well did you know Olivia La Belle?”

I'd had a feeling this was coming. How best to put it?

“We were at Hockaday together a lifetime ago,” I explained without going into detail. “I hadn't seen her in a dozen years before yesterday, but she hadn't changed a bit. She wasn't the nicest person, if that's what you're asking.”

“So you weren't friends?”

“We were classmates,” I said. That was as diplomatic as I could get. “She was captain of the tennis team, and she was strong, way stronger than Millie. If there'd been a fight, Olivia would have been the winner. There's no way Millie could have taken her down—­”

“Did you happen to see Ms. La Belle's laptop or her cell phone?” the deputy chief asked, trampling over my opinion. “We didn't find either in her possession.”

“Maybe she left them at home,” I said, but I figured that was a stretch. Olivia probably had both soldered to her hip. “Or else the killer took them,” I suggested, “which would tell you right there that it wasn't Millie who did it—­”

“Thank you, Miss Kendricks,” Anna Dean cut me off. “I think we're done here.” She gave a crisp nod. “I'll have your statement transcribed and be right back.”

“Millie Draper is innocent,” I said pointedly, but the deputy chief didn't appear moved. “Okay, yes, Olivia treated Millie really badly yesterday, but that doesn't mean Millie would stab her with a cake knife. I mean, that'd be pretty stupid. Olivia had a lot of enemies.”

“Thank you, Ms. Kendricks, but we're done,” Deputy Dean said for the second time, and it was as infuriating as the first.

I wasn't getting anywhere. All my protests weren't doing Millie a damned bit of good.

The police wanted cold hard facts not my personal observations and insight, however well-­intentioned. Sighing, I leaned back and glanced up at the camera slanted down from the wall. It reminded me of Pete, skulking around Penny's wedding.

A light went on in my brain.

“Wait!” I said as Anna Dean went toward the door.

She paused and turned.

“Olivia had been filming for the second season of her reality show. She had a cameraman named Pete following her around Penny Ryan's wedding. I can't believe she didn't have a camera stashed in her office somewhere.”

“We're going over her office quite thoroughly, Ms. Kendricks, believe me,” Anna Dean replied. “If there's a camera or anything else there, we'll find it.”

There was something else that niggled at me, too.

“The shopping center parking lot must have surveillance,” I said, thinking of the high-­end retailers and restaurants there. They'd want to make sure their wealthy customers were well protected. “You can see for yourselves who came and went before Millie even got there.”

“Of course, we'll be looking over surveillance camera footage. We're already working on it,” Anna Dean said, and she gave me a
Do you think I'm stupid?
look.

“Yes, of course you are,” I murmured. I was the one who felt stupid.

“Is that it?” the deputy chief asked. “Otherwise, I'll have your statement ready for you to sign in a few minutes.”

Was that it?
I asked myself. I was tempted to tell her a few facts about Olivia La Belle I was sure she didn't know. Like, Olivia had been one of the cruelest people I'd met in my life; how she could act charming enough when the occasion warranted and humiliate a person in the next breath; that I thought she was a sociopath and, as a child, I'd wished her dead more times than I could count on my fingers and toes?

No, I hardly figured any of that was worth bringing up unless I wanted to be considered the prime suspect right alongside Millie.

Call me a coward, but I swallowed hard and said, “Yes, that's it.”

“Be right back,” Deputy Dean said.

She picked up her paperwork and stood. She disappeared for maybe ten minutes, just long enough for me to mull over what I'd divulged and hope I hadn't done anything to hurt Millie's case. When the deputy chief reappeared, she was all business. She asked me to read over the brief transcript to see if everything was as stated. Then once I had, she gave me a pen to sign the papers. After eyeballing my signature, she opened up a manila envelope she'd brought with her, dumped out my cell phone, keys, and driver's license and pushed them across the table. Then she collected the signed paperwork, stood, and nodded.

“We'll be in touch, Ms. Kendricks. We may need to interview you again so, please, don't leave town. Oh, and tell your mother hello for me.” She paused before adding, “I'm sorry for your loss.”

“My loss?”

“Ms. La Belle,” she said with an arch of her eyebrows, “your school mate.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” I replied vaguely and squirmed.

I wasn't sure how I felt about Olivia's death. I knew she had parents in Monte Carlo, maybe even other relatives who presumably loved her. She might even have a friend or two, probably living in foreign countries, like her folks, so they didn't have to see her often. Yes, I was sorry that a human being had been killed violently. I was sorry that I had to see the bloody aftermath. I was sorry, too, that a kind woman like Millie Draper was going through hell at the moment. But sorry for
my
loss? If I'd lost anything because of Olivia, it was the part of my childhood that she'd tarnished. Even all these years after, I still kept in my heart that insecure girl whom Olivia had tormented. Now that Olivia was gone, maybe it was time I let that girl go for good.

“You're done with me?” I asked, because it all felt too fast, like what I'd done—­what I'd said—­wasn't enough.

“Would you like to stay?”

“No,” I replied honestly, yet I was reluctant to leave. I didn't want to abandon Millie.

“Then you may go.” She opened the door with a click and held it wide, but I still couldn't get my legs to move. “Ms. Kendricks,” Anna Dean said firmly. “Do I need to call your mother and ask her to come get you? You'll need a ride to your car.”