Bouquet of Lies - BestLightNovel.com
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She felt a hand on her shoulder. Someone spoke to her.
"What? What?" she asked.
"Do you need a sedative, too?"
She looked up. Dan stood behind her. His words showed concern, but not the expression on his face. Cop face. Grim. A mask. Why was he still here? Surely he was no suspect. He had never even met Harper.
Must be because he was a cop and had taken charge once the . . . once her father had been found. Yeah, that's right. Dan had flashed his badge, shooed everyone out of the library and told all the guests not to leave.
Lacey shook her head.
"You sure?" Dan asked.
"It's all an act," Edward's voice snarled. "She never cared about my son."
His words whirled inside her skull and banged against her forehead. She ached and had no energy to fight with Edward.
"Is that true?" The detective in charge addressed her. He was big. Fiftyish. Maybe sixty. If her face didn't give him the answer, then he must think her worthy of an Academy Award. Every time she wiped her tears, mascara came with it. She had to look like a racc.o.o.n.
"Think what you want. But don't think anything Edward says is true."
Dan's hands pressed her shoulders, steadying her.
"Oh, she didn't kill him," Edward snapped. "Talk to that grease monkey who threatened me. Threatened Harper, now that I think about it."
The detective turned to Edward. "What grease monkey?"
"The mouthy one who brought the car back. The Bentley."
"He must mean Jake." Lacey wiped another tear with a tissue. "He's our chauffeur's son. He's just here for the summer."
"That's the chauffer's kid?" Edward jerked his head.
"He's not a kid anymore, Ed. Try to keep up." If she had any oomph she would have laughed at the perplexed frown on his face.
"Was he at the party?" the detective asked.
"Yes. But he didn't kill Daddy." She faced Edward and put as much energy into a glare as she could. "If he were to kill anyone it would be you." Dan's fingers squeezed her shoulder. Wrong thing to say. "Scratch that."
"What's his name?"
"Jake Koldare. He lives over the garage. But I'm telling you. He had no problem with my dad."
"We'll talk to him." The detective wrote down the name.
Fine. Talk to him. Waste time, she thought. "Look. Before they took her upstairs, Darla told me she saw a woman in the room."
"Aaaugh!" Edward banged the tip of his cane on the floor. "She's crazy. You know that."
"She's not crazy!" An adrenaline rush boosted Lacey's resolve. That's better, she thought. "Darla said a blonde led her to the library."
"A blonde or her mother?" Randy's voice. He sat away from the table obscured from her view. He'd been asked to stay? Of course. He was possibly the last to see Harper alive. They'd had a meeting. They had moved from the office to the library because the party was too loud.
"What do you mean?" asked the detective.
"I heard Darla scream. I was the first to get to her."
"How is it you got to her first?" The detective studied him.
"I was chatting with Darla at the party. I left her to go to the restroom. When I came back she was gone and I decided to go home. It's just fortunate I was walking through the foyer or I wouldn't have heard her scream. The point is she was mumbling, 'Mother. Mother. Mother was here.'"
"And this makes her crazy? Why?" The detective swiveled his head from Edward to Lacey.
"Mother's dead," Lacey said flatly. "Dead. Dead. Dead. Like Daddy." The tears flowed again.
"What do you think happened?" Dan asked Lacey, seated across from her at the kitchen table.
She still wore that s.e.xy costume, a blanket wrapped around her for warmth. Her chair was pushed back and a scrawny cat purred on her lap. He glanced at the feline. All was right with the world as far as the cat was concerned. Milk in the tummy. A hand stroking its back. No attachment to a lost parent.
At four in the morning everyone else had either gone home or gone to bed. He knew what it was to lose someone important in your life. He knew about death. Some people might want to be alone, but not Lacey. He knew that much about her.
"I think this is a dream," Lacey said. "I'll wake up and nothing will have happened." She took a sip of the tea she'd laced with cherry brandy. He didn't try to take it away from her. Alcohol was okay right now. Whatever she needed to get through this.
"And your sister? You say there's no way she . . ."
"Don't even go there. She's not strong enough or mean enough or . . . She's defenseless. And she truly believes Mother is alive."
"You don't?"
Lacey shook her head rhythmically, slowly. The brandy had relaxed her. "She must have seen a party guest and made the leap. I don't know what this is going to do to her. And Edward will try to use it against her. But she's not going in the hospital this time. I won't let it happen. I'm going to be here for her."
During the questioning in the dining room it had come out how unreliable anything Darla said was. It had come out that she'd been committed to a hospital for trying to commit suicide. Certainly he wanted Lacey's sister to be okay, but it was Lacey he was worried about. Lacey, with her carefree spirit that now seemed lost. Lacey with her thick, gold-brown hair and flirtatious grin. Lacey with the body that curved in all the right places and obviously attracted all kinds of men. He'd observed them at the party. None were immune to her. And apparently, neither was he.
"What about you? Who's going to be here for you?"
She looked at him with her viridian green eyes. They were swollen and pink.
I'm here for you, he wanted to say. But he held his tongue.
Lacey looked down at the cat. "Kitty will. And I'll be back to my real self in no time."
That's right. Be strong. Act like you can handle anything. He knew the drill. It was expected when you were a soldier. And when Sally died he'd put on the same act.
He moved to the chair next to Lacey and sat. "I think this is your real self. All that happy-go-lucky stuff is a front."
She shook her head. "Why does it have to be one or the other? My father was just murdered."
He leaned back. "You're right. I'm sorry. You loved him."
She took a sip of tea and sighed. "I didn't even know him."
Her voice was thin. She was fighting tears again, he could tell. He wanted to take her in his arms and make everything all right, but he stayed put and simply said, "No?"
She shrugged. "He was great when I was little. I thought of him as a king. I guess all little girls do. The princess syndrome or something. Then after Darla came along, everything changed."
She took another sip.
Rely on me. Not that drink.
She s.h.i.+fted in the chair and the cat jumped to the floor. The tabby found a corner and curled up.
"Maybe you just felt rejected? Kids do that when there's a new baby."
"No." She stretched her legs and arched her back as she pulled her hair away from her face. The blanket fell to the floor. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed provocatively against the bodice of the magician's a.s.sistant costume and he had to force himself to look elsewhere. "I was never jealous of Darla. It's hot in here."
The drink was getting to her. He should go. She had her brandied tea. She could sleep now. She didn't need him.
She went on with her story. "Daddy ignored us both the same. At least I got three good years which is more than Darla got. Sweet, sweet toddlerhood. I remember only a few things. Little things. Like him reading to me. Slipping me into a sweater. And I remember baking cookies with him. Him. Baking cookies." She smiled. "Imagine that. I burned my finger." She held up her right index finger. "And he ran it under the faucet and told me I could eat all the cookies I wanted. I did, too."
Dan's eyes went to her shoulder. Now he understood the cookie-sheet tattoo. He looked at her legs stretched before him. Then his gaze went to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing to be released and lingered there. His insides felt like they'd caught fire. He stood up and scooted the chair under the table. "Sleep's the best thing right now." He clutched the back of the chair as if it were a lifeline and looked at her. "This is probably a good time to tell you. The detective on the case is my uncle. I called him instead of 911. He's the best. I figured he could get himself a.s.signed to the investigation."
She gazed back with a half-smile and nodded. "Okay." She raised a limp hand for him to help her up. He took it and pulled. She stumbled toward him and he caught her. Had she done that on purpose? Maybe. Maybe not. It didn't matter. Her body was against his and it felt good. His arms went around her. One hand moved to the small of her back. He pressed her to him and a thirst he hadn't felt in a very long time urged him into action. He pressed his lips to hers and closed his eyes. Her arms went around him in a strong embrace. He tasted the cherry brandy she'd been drinking. He felt her heart beat as his heart raced.
Stop! What are you doing?
He pulled back. He shouldn't have kissed her. That was wrong. She was vulnerable. She wasn't his girl.
Her eyes searched his.
"I should go," he said.
"Why?" She looked bewildered.
He wanted to stay. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her again. It took all the strength he had to let go. "Get some rest. Try not to drink anymore."
Then without another word he went out the back door and got in the Prius he'd driven to the party. He would watch the house until the sun came up.
Twelve.
DAYS LATER, LACEY'S kiss still lingered in Dan's mind. Even at work. The number of tickets he issued suffered. He would be sitting on his motorcycle thinking about her and it wouldn't even register that a speeder had raced by.
He walked into his house and headed straight for the bedroom. As he changed out of his uniform, he couldn't get Lacey out of his head. So beautiful. Caring. Hurting. Her lips, soft. Their kiss sweet, with pa.s.sion brewing just below the surface. She intrigued him. He felt drawn to her. He loved Sally. She had been his best friend forever. But he couldn't deny this attraction to Lacey. She excited him in a way that was completely new.
His brow dipped. How could that be? Wasn't it some sort of betrayal to Sally? He hated the idea.
Thank goodness he'd stopped before his emotions had run any higher. Lacey was going through a traumatic time. People sought comfort in all kinds of ways when they were stressed. That kiss could have led to more and their relations.h.i.+p . . .
Relations.h.i.+p? Who said they were in a relations.h.i.+p? He was supposed to take her on a date so the lie he'd told his aunt and uncle wouldn't be a lie. That was it!
Really? What about the Roxy? And dinner at your house? You went to her party.
Those weren't official dates. They never made it to the restaurant in Malibu. She cancelled. Her father's funeral arrangements and affairs took a lot of time.
You didn't cancel, she did. And you were disappointed. What does that say about a fake date?
He hadn't let on.
Right. You pretended it didn't matter. How do you suppose that made her feel?
He sat down on the bed, sighed, and continued to wrestle with his thoughts as he pulled on socks and a pair of Puma casuals.
She can't really care. She lives in a different world with more men beating down her door than any woman I've ever known.
Like you've known so many.
There had been enough. He had dated girls in high school.
Girls? Two. But mostly Sally.
And when Sally and I broke up for those couple of years after high school, there were several.
Three.
Enough to know Sally was the one I loved.
Sally's gone.
He finished and went to his bureau. He brushed his hair while looking at himself in the mirror.
She might be gone, but that didn't mean Lacey was her replacement. Just because he was attracted to her. He had to be realistic. What would a girl like Lacey really want with a blue-collar cop? He wasn't a good-time Joe.
You think too much.
No. I'm being levelheaded.
He put down the hairbrush. It had been a long day. He had helped at the scene of two accidents, both the result of someone in a hurry. Thank G.o.d, there were only minor injuries.
He saw Lacey in his mind again and shoved the image away.
Enough! He wouldn't see her any more. At least not socially. His uncle had her case. He shouldn't see her while he was investigating.
What?