The Dead and the Beautiful (26 page)

“Mars,” Nikki said.

“Yeah. And you know the rest.”

Both of them were quiet.

“So?” Alison finally said. “Do you know who did it?”

“No,” Nikki said. She closed her eyes for a second. “But it's there. It's
right
there.”

Chapter 26

A
t noon, Nikki walked out onto her mother's stone terrace, which extended around the pool. The dogs ran past her and out onto the freshly cut grass.

Victoria was sitting in a lounge chair in a black bathing suit, wearing a big white hat. Nikki noted that she looked darned good for a woman her age.

Victoria had been reading. There was a pile of magazines on the glass table between two chaise longues:
Ladies' Home Journal
,
The Economist
, and
Variety
. Victoria Bordeaux had eclectic taste in reading.

Which was even more evident when Nikki saw the paperback book open in her mother's lap that featured a young woman in a bonnet on the cover. Nikki pulled off her T-shirt and tossed it on the vacant lounge chair. “What on earth are you reading?”

“An Amish romance. It's quite good.”

Nikki laughed and stepped out of her gym shorts. Her bikini was bright blue.

After Alison left the house to walk clients' dogs, Nikki had felt restless. She'd had to get out of the house. She had so much going on in her head. Alison's story was so unbelievable that she believed her. Completely. She felt as if she had all the puzzle pieces that would lead her to Ryan's killer; she just had to put the pieces together.

Nikki's best guess right now was that Angel had killed Ryan. He'd jogged over to the house, killed him, and jogged home. Harley had seen him jogging home. But the previous night Angel had made a point of telling her he'd been at lunch when Ryan was killed. Had Harley been mistaken as to what time of day he'd seen Angel? Had Angel been lying about being at the restaurant?

“Since when are you reading Amish romances?” Nikki spread out a pink towel that Victoria had left on the chaise longue for her.

“Since I started reading this one. I bought it at the drugstore. It's very sweet. Renews my faith in mankind.”

Nikki sat on the chaise and then laid back. “So what are you doing laying out in the sun?” She removed her Persol sunglasses and closed her eyes. “You never lay out.”

“Vitamin D.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I'm laying out to absorb vitamin D. And because it feels good.”

“Ah.”

“There's tonic water and I sliced a lemon. Would you like a drink?”

“You sliced a lemon?” Nikki asked. “You didn't have Ina do it?”

“No, I didn't have Ina do it.” She slipped a bookmark into the paperback. “It's Sunday. Ina has the day off.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Victoria was quiet for a moment. “Nicolette, that was unkind. I know you and I have this . . . repartee. It's part of who we both are, but . . .” She hesitated. “But I'm worried about you. It's not like you to be unkind.”

Nikki groaned. “You're not going to use the word
shrink
again, are you? I didn't come here to talk about this.”

“I think you did. I think you've needed to talk about it for some time. For some reason, this nonsense with Alison has brought it all back.”

Nikki reached for her sunglasses, then slid them on.

“You shouldn't feel badly that you did what you did to that monster. He was going to kill you.”

“Mother.”

“Say it. For me, if not for yourself. Say it.”

Nikki pressed her lips together. “I killed Albert Tinsley to save myself and Erica.”

“He would have raped and murdered and left you both buried in the desert like he did those other girls.”

“But I didn't know that,” Nikki whispered. “No one knew he was doing that.” It had all come out later when the police investigated him.

“You knew your life was in danger,” Victoria insisted.

Nikki felt her eyes sting with tears. What was wrong with her? She'd fought with Albert Tinsley in that parking lot over twenty years ago. Where were these feelings coming from? “I shouldn't have gotten in his car with him. I shouldn't have been drinking. I shouldn't have told Erica we should go.”

“No, you shouldn't have.”

Nikki pressed her lips together and looked out over the pool. The water was so blue and looked so inviting. Oliver lay under the diving board, in the shade. Stanley was standing on the edge of the pool, watching something. His shadow? A water bug?

“You shouldn't have been in that bar. You shouldn't have had too much alcohol to drink,” Victoria went on. “And you
certainly
should not have gotten in his van with him.”

“But I did,” Nikki whispered.

“You did.”

“He could have killed me.” Tears slipped down Nikki's cheeks and she wiped them away, self-conscious. “He could have killed Erica.”

“He would have,” Victoria agreed. “But you didn't let him. You protected her when she couldn't protect herself.”

Nikki squeezed her eyes shut. She remembered laughing and dancing with Erica and Albert Tinsley at the club where they met. He had been nicely dressed. Said he was in finance. She and Erica had agreed to go back to his apartment for a glass of wine after last call. On the way, Erica passed out in the back seat. It wasn't until he pulled into the abandoned parking lot that Nikki realized something was wrong. Something was
very
wrong with Albert Tinsley.

Nikki exhaled, fighting the flashes of memory. Usually she could keep them at bay.

She remembered how light from a streetlamp reflected off the steel barrel as he pulled the 9mm handgun out from under his seat. She remembered the smell of his cologne. The feel of her heart as it pounded in her chest. It was raining.

Everything happened so fast.

He told her to get out of the van. Erica was out of it on the back seat. Nikki remembered that when she glanced at her friend, she noticed that Erica only had one heel on. Blue. Where was her other shoe?

Albert told Nikki to get out of the van, then pointed the gun at her face when she refused.

Seeing the 9mm had sobered her.

Nikki couldn't leave Erica in the van, not with a man with a gun. She hollered to Erica, called her name. But Erica wouldn't wake up. Albert got mad. He said he'd shoot Nikki; then he'd take Erica with him,
do what he wanted,
and then he said he'd kill her, too. He told her he'd done it before. She had believed him.

The parking lot was empty. It was three-thirty in the morning. Nikki had remembered thinking that no one would hear her scream. No one would hear the gunshot when he killed her.

“Nicolette?” Victoria murmured.

Nikki shuddered. She didn't remember making any plan. She just knew she couldn't get out of the van. Not leave Erica with him.

He got out of the van and walked around it to Nikki's door, holding the gun on her. When he started to open it, she pushed as hard as she could, startling him. He fell back, dropping the handgun. Nikki fell out of the van, onto the wet pavement, and scrambled to get to the gun.

He came at her with a knife from a sheath on his ankle. A hunting knife, with a serrated edge. She remembered thinking to herself that financiers didn't carry hunting knives.

Nikki felt her mother's hand on her arm. Victoria was sitting on the chaise longue beside her. Nikki didn't see her mother move over.

Nikki cringed as, in her mind's eye, she saw Albert lunge at her with the knife. He said terrible, awful things about what he was going to do to her with the knife.

So Nikki pulled the trigger.

“If you hadn't come . . .” Nikki realized she was sobbing. “If you hadn't come . . .”

“If I hadn't come, you'd have dealt with it yourself just fine.”

Nikki shook her head. “No, I couldn't have . . .”

Nikki had called Victoria that night. From Albert's cell phone. Amondo had put Victoria on the phone. Victoria had been calm. She had told Nikki to get in the van and lock herself inside with Erica. She had told her to say nothing to the police, to anyone until she arrived. Then she had disconnected. First, Victoria had called her attorney, then the police.

Even when the police arrived, the ambulances, the EMTs, Nikki had said nothing until her mother and the attorney had arrived. At first glance, it looked like Nikki had simply shot a man. It was Victoria who held Nikki's hand, who kept telling her everything was going to be all right.

“It's all right,” Victoria soothed, putting her arms around Nikki.

Nikki sat up and clung to her mother.

“It's going to be all right, darling,” Victoria assured her. “It's just a nasty old nightmare. You're going to be fine.”

“But I wouldn't have been,” Nikki managed, her tears falling on her mother's bare shoulder.

In the weeks and months that had followed Albert Tinsley's death, Victoria had helped Nikki put the pieces of her life back together. The pieces of herself. It was after that that Nikki began to find herself, her true self. That was when she started working for her father, first in his restaurant, later managing apartments. That job had led her to become a real-estate broker.

“Shhh,” Victoria soothed, stroking Nikki's hair.

“I'm sorry.” Nikki let go of her mother and pulled off her sunglasses to wipe her face with a towel from the table. “I don't know what's wrong with me,” she sniffled.

Victoria, who had removed her sunglasses, gazed into Nikki's eyes. In Victoria's Bordeaux blues, Nikki saw herself.

“Sometimes a girl needs a good cry.” Victoria brushed her hand across Nikki's cheek. “How about a little tonic water?”

Nikki sniffed. “Sure. I could use something to drink. I'll get it.” She started to get up.

“Nonsense.” Her mother rose. “I'll get it, and then we'll just sit here for a while and enjoy the peace and quiet. And when you're ready, you can tell me all about your conversation with Alison this morning.”

By the time Victoria returned with the drink, Nikki had wiped away her tears and actually
did
feel better. She didn't understand what had been going on in her head, but just allowing herself to relive killing Albert Tinsley, just for a moment, had been cathartic. She didn't think about the incident often, so maybe she needed to allow herself a few tears over it once in a while.

Victoria poured her daughter a drink and added a slice of lemon. “Put some sunblock on, dear,” she instructed as she sat in her chaise longue and adjusted her hat. “Use mine.”

Nikki took a drink of the tonic water and then, while applying sunblock, relayed to her mother everything Alison had told her. When she got to the sex party part, she warned her mother she could never speak of it, not to anyone, including Alison. Or Jeremy.

“Good heavens,” Victoria remarked. “I know what gossip to repeat and what gossip not to repeat. How do you think I've made it this long in this town?”

Nikki laughed and went on with her story. Victoria was fully onboard until Nikki got to the timeline.

“So, you think Angel went into the house, after Alison dropped off the dog, killed him, and was gone before the fish tank guy arrived?” Victoria made a face. “That could have been only minutes.”

“Yeah, I know. That's one of the flaws in my thinking.”

“And Alison was certain he waved to her and he wasn't already dead in the chair?”

“She included that detail from the beginning, even when she wasn't telling the whole truth. I don't think she made it up. Why would she? If she knew he was dead, she wouldn't have said he waved to her.”

“What do you think after seeing the Fab Four and their spouses last night? Did Angel seem guilty?”

“He was a total jerk. But did he seem like he'd killed his friend?” Nikki rose and pulled on her shorts. “I don't know. Maybe.” She thought for a second. “The thing is, they were all acting weird. Tense.”

Victoria watched her dress. “You certain you won't stay and have an early dinner with me?”

“No, I want to go home and relax for a little while, while the house is quiet. Alison thought Jeremy would be dropping Jocelyn off around six. She said she'd be home by then and make dinner.”

“You think they'll be staying with you all week, or going back to Jeremy's?”

She exhaled and pulled her T-shirt over her head. “I don't know. We'll see. Stanley! Oliver! Let's go, boys!” The dogs sprinted past her and around the house. Nikki stood for a moment, wanting to say something, not sure what. “Mother . . .”

Victoria smiled. “You're welcome, darling.”

Nikki walked away. Victoria waved from her chair; Nikki only saw her hand.

“Ring me later,” Victoria called.

Chapter 27

A
t home, Nikki opened the gate and set the dogs free in the backyard. Then she went through the front door, into the house, cradling her phone on her shoulder. She was on hold with Pizzeria Mozza, waiting for the sommelier, David, to come to the phone. David was one of Jeremy's patients and always made a fuss when she and Jeremy had dinner there.

As Nikki walked into the living room, she heard the dogs barking. She wondered if Marshall was home and they could see him through one of the gaps in the fence. Sometimes, when he was there, if they barked, he'd let them come over and play.

While she waited, she pulled off her T-shirt, stepped out of her flip-flops, and slipped off her shorts. She left them by the door; they smelled of sunblock and she wanted to toss them in the washer.

“Pizzeria Mozza, this is David,” Nikki heard in her ear.

“David, hi. This is Nikki Harper, Dr. Fitzpatrick's—”

“Nikki, of course. Need a quick reservation?”

“No.” She chuckled. “Actually, I have a question and it's going to sound crazy, but . . . do you remember if Angel Gomez was in for lunch on a Tuesday three weeks ago?”

“He was.”

Nikki was completely taken aback by David's quick answer. “He was? You're sure?”

“Absolutely. It was the same day Ryan Melton was murdered. I'll never forget it as long as I live. Such a sad day.” David's voice was full of emotion. “I think Angel may have actually gotten the call that Ryan was dead while he was still here. I was in the back, but everyone said he got a phone call and then he got up and left. Tragic.
Just tragic.
I can't imagine having your friend murdered. Strangled with a dog leash.” She heard him shudder. “And poor Dr. Fitzpatrick. Having his sister arrested.”

“Thanks so much, David,” Nikki said, lost in thought. So, was Harley mistaken about the day he saw Angel jogging? About the time?

“You're welcome. I hope I see you and Dr. Fitzgerald soon.”

“Have a good day,” Nikki said. As she hung up, she realized the dogs were still barking out back. But now it was an odd bark. It was their
there's a stranger at the door
bark.

Nikki went to the back door, slid the dead bolt, and opened the door to find Betsy Gomez. She was wearing a pink, flirty dress, high heels, and white dress gloves. And holding a gun.

Nikki took a step back, feeling like the whole scenario was a little bizarre. She was barefoot, in a teeny bikini. Angel Gomez's wife looked like she was dressed for
Breakfast at Tiffany's
. Nikki stared at the pistol, not fully comprehending what was happening.

Betsy walked in the door, followed by Hazel, who was also in a dress, four-inch heels, and white elbow-length gloves. Hazel was carrying a Fendi shopping bag on her elbow. They left the back door standing open.

“You want me to go back out and break in the door with that concrete block so it looks like—”

“We'll do that later!” Betsy snapped at Hazel.

“What do you want?” Nikki stared at the gun barrel pointed at her. With a silencer. She thought about Albert Tinsley, but wasn't any more afraid than she was a second ago, even though maybe she should have been. The silencer suggested these women meant business. “What are you doing?”

“Turn around,” Betsy ordered. Her voice trembled, but her hands were steady.

Nikki calculated that, at this distance, if Betsy pulled the trigger, she wouldn't miss. The gun looked to be a .38. A shot in the back would likely kill her. Two or three would do her in, for sure.

And now Betsy was trying to corner her in the galley kitchen. Nikki knew she didn't have a chance if they backed her up against a wall. Or the cabinets.

So Nikki turned her body slightly so that as Betsy backed her up, she stepped into the hall that connected to the living room, rather than deeper into the kitchen.

“You killed him?” Nikki asked, still slowly backing up, hoping her words would distract the women from what she was doing. “You killed Ryan?”

“No, I didn't kill him!”

Nikki glanced over Betsy's shoulder to meet Hazel's gaze. “You did it?”

“No, thank God I didn't draw the straw.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I don't know if I could have done it.”

“Drew the straw?”
Nikki asked.

“Turn around!” Betsy stretched her arms out a little farther, the black gun with its long silencer pointed right at Nikki's chest.

“You're going to kill me? How do you think you're going to get away with it?” Nikki tried to sound derisive. Intimidating. “You'll never get away with it. Dombrowski will be on you within hours.”

“It's going to look like a robbery,” Hazel explained. She held up the Fendi bag. “We're going to take your jewelry. Your wallet and credit cards. Bury them.”

Nikki drew one hand over her chest. All she could think of was that she needed to stall them. Stall for time. Time would give her . . . time to think of something . . . or maybe even give Alison the opportunity to arrive. “Could . . . could I put on my shirt? I . . . I feel . . .
naked.
”

“Just turn around!” Betsy shouted. “You don't want to see me do it, do you?”

“God, Betsy, let her put her shirt on.” Hazel looked at her friend. “Would you want to be found dead in
your
bikini?”

Nikki had backed her way far enough that now she was in front of the door where she had left her clothes. Watching Betsy, she squatted and grabbed her blue T-shirt.

The dogs flew into the house and came down the hall, barking. They startled Hazel and she did a little sidestep, wobbling on her four-inch heels.

“What are you talking about, drawing straws?” Nikki came to her feet slowly and pulled her shirt over her head. “If you're going to kill me, you should at least tell me
why
you're killing me.”

“We're killing you because you wouldn't mind your own business.
We
hired the lawyer. She would have gotten the dog walker off. But you couldn't let it be, could you?” Betsy demanded.

The dogs were still barking.

“Shut them up,” Betsy warned. “Or I'll shoot them first.”

That scared Nikki more than standing at the end of Betsy's gun barrel. “Stanley! Oliver! Hush.”

Oliver jumped up on the couch. Stanley trotted around the two women and stood between Nikki and Betsy. He growled deep in his throat. It was a pretty big growl for such a little guy.

“So you hired Lillie Lambert?” Nikki asked Hazel.

“We did it together. All of us.”

“Hazel!” Betsy said. “Let's just do this and get out of here. Turn around!” she shouted at Nikki.

“Please.” Nikki held up her hand. “I just . . . I want to understand what happened.”

Hazel looked at Betsy. “No one will ever know,” she said quietly. “And she was nice to us. No one's ever very nice to us, unless they're sucking up.”

Nikki took another step back. They were now in the rectangular living room. The fireplace was behind her; the couch, where Oliver perched, was to her left, under the windows. Unfortunately, the drapes were closed, to keep out the afternoon sun. No one driving or walking by would see that she was being held at gunpoint.

“We drew straws,” Hazel said. “Ryan had to die. Diara couldn't just divorce him. He was going to tell people about our private parties. He was going to ruin everyone's career. Ruin our lives.”

“Private parties?” Nikki asked.

“Hazel,” Betsy warned.

Hazel looked at Betsy, then back at Nikki. “He was blackmailing us so he could open his stupid club, which would fail, just like his stupid restaurant failed. And we were fine giving him the money for a while, even Diara pitched in. Julian said he wasn't even asking that much, the idiot. Twenty-five thousand a month.”

“But then he asked for more,” Nikki said.

“How'd you guess?” Hazel asked.

“So you decided to kill him?” Nikki tried to figure out if there was anything in the living room she could use as a weapon. The fireplace tools were too far behind her. There was a vase made of green carnival glass on the end table, but it was so lightweight it wouldn't be much help. “You said you
drew straws.
What did you mean?”

“That's just what they call it,” Hazel explained. “It was toothpicks. At your mother's party. Seven toothpicks. Angel broke the tip off one of them and held them out for us to choose. We each had to take one and whoever had the broken one had to kill Ryan.”

Nikki thought about that evening at the garden party, how the Fab Four and their spouses had all been standing together when Nikki was talking to Ryan. When she and Ryan approached the group, Diara had slipped something into her handbag. A toothpick. They had just decided who was going to kill Ryan, with him standing twenty feet away.

“And
Gil
got the broken toothpick,” Nikki said, as much to herself as to the women. Harley had seen
Gil
jog by the day Ryan was murdered, not
Angel.
They looked so similar that Harley had mistaken one man for the other. She thought about her mother, waving good-bye to her from the chaise longue this afternoon. And it was
not
Ryan who had waved to Alison. It was Gil. He had been there when she brought Muffin back. When he heard Alison, he sat in Diara's chaise. Ryan had been found dead in his chair, not Diara's.

“Gil did it? Oh, God, poor Gil,” Hazel said. She looked at Nikki. “We didn't know which one of us got it. We weren't supposed to say. That way, if we were questioned—”

“You wouldn't know anything,” Nikki finished for her.

Hazel pointed at Nikki, the Fendi bag on her arm. “Right. That was Angel's idea.”

“That doesn't surprise me.” Nikki looked right at Betsy. “So that's how you got here today? You drew straws again?”

“Last night, after the cocktail party. When Angel sobered up.” Again, it was Hazel who provided the explanation.

“That's enough,” Betsy warned. We should just do this, Hazel, and get out of here.”

“We went to Kameryn and Gil's last night,” Hazel went on, seeming as if she needed to confess to someone. Nikki was the perfect person because she could take the Fab Four's secrets to her grave. “And Angel said we had to do something to protect ourselves. He said we would all go to jail. Maybe death row.” Her eyes began to tear up. “I didn't want to draw straws again. I didn't want to be the one to have to kill you, but Julian said I had to draw. He said it was only fair.”

“Cocktail straws,” Betsy murmured.

“Betsy got the straw Angel had cut. She was crying in the bathroom. I felt so bad for her,” Hazel admitted, “that I told her I would come with her. You know, for moral support. That's when we came up with the idea of the robbery. That's why we're wearing the gloves. No fingerprints.” She held up her hands.

“Okay, enough,” Betsy snapped. “Nikki, either turn around or I'm just going to pull the trigger, and if you watch me, my aim might be bad. I . . . I might not kill you with the first shot. And . . . and I think it's going to hurt.” She took a step toward Nikki and Stanley began to growl again.

“Wait, wait! One more thing, please.” Now Nikki's voice was trembling. If these two women had participated in that elaborate scheme to protect their husbands and their friends, there was no reason to believe they weren't going to do this. She couldn't see how Tom wouldn't figure out who did it eventually. But she'd still be dead.

“Alison,” she said. “Was the plan to make it look like she did it?”

Hazel shook her head. “There was no plan. If you got the short toothpick, you had to figure out a way to do it yourself. I guess Alison was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Betsy and I felt bad for her. That's why we decided to hire Lillie Lambert. Because we knew she'd get Alison off. Alison was always nice to me,” she added.

Betsy raised the gun.

Nikki's breath caught in her throat.

Stanley growled. Oliver whined. Stanley growled louder.

“Call him off!” Betsy warned, “Or I swear to God I'll shoot him.” She turned slightly, moving the pistol in the direction of the dog.

Nikki saw a flash of black and white and brown out of the corner of her eye. At the same time that Betsy turned toward Stanley, Oliver flew off the couch, hitting Betsy in the back. Oliver howled. Stanley growled and went after Betsy as she fell forward on her knees.

The pistol hit the hardwood floor and spun. Slid. Nikki dove for the gun.

Hazel screamed.

Betsy screamed and flailed as she scrambled to get to her feet and get the dogs off her.

Stan and Ollie shot out of the living room, through the dining room, and headed for the back door.

By the time Betsy looked up, Nikki was holding the pistol on her. Hazel began to cry.

“Get in the kitchen,” Nikki ordered. She had no intention of giving them any chance to get away. “Or I swear I'll shoot you,” she threatened.

Hazel helped Betsy to her feet. In the fall, the heel had broken off one of her white Jimmy Choo shoes; she had to hobble to the kitchen.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Hazel blubbered. “I didn't want to kill you. I didn't want to kill Ryan. I swear I didn't.”

Nikki escorted both women to the galley kitchen where she picked her cell phone up off the counter. She scrolled through her contacts and hit Send.

He answered on the second ring. “Nikki.”