Chapter Forty-Nine
FORTY-NINE
Tim
The posters of homes for sale had multiplied since Monday, papering most of the real estate office front window.
On the glossy cardboard every house was a palace, wide angles and strategic lighting expertly employed to maximize their perceived worth.
His own house, when he bought it, had looked great on the brochure too, but digital enhancements were a facade designed to conceal every flaw.
You had to look closer, deeper, to see the real thing.
“Oh,” Stacy said when he pushed through the door, her gaze locking on the sidearm he wore at his hip. “Are you here for me?”
“If you have a free minute.” Tim could hardly see her behind the massive bouquet of red roses on her desk. He leaned past them to get a clear view of Stacy’s face. She blanched noticeably as she pushed the flowers aside.
“Do all witnesses get this kind of treatment?” she asked, smoothing down her short hair. “It’s my third time seeing you this week. Fourth, if you count Nicole’s party.”
“I promise I won’t take too much of your time.”
The laughter drained from Stacy’s eyes, but she did a good job of hiding it.
The woman had been expecting banter, maybe even some light flirting, but Tim was wise to the dangers of opening the door to witness vamping.
As he pulled out the padded chair across from her desk, a figure emerged from the back room.
“Blair,” he blurted. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”
“Oh. Hi.” Blair flashed him a smile, but her knees had locked, her feet fixed to the floor.
In truth, she looked as flustered as Tim felt.
An hour ago, he’d been with her father, attempting to determine whether Woody had murdered his one-night stand.
Now, he was face to face with their daughter.
At their previous meeting, Stacy had implied that Nicole had been keeping the girls in the dark.
How much did Blair know now? Was she aware of Angelica, or her father’s trip down to the station?
“It’s good to see you,” he said. “No school today?” It seemed early for the kid to be done for the day.
“It’s intern week.” When she clocked Tim’s puzzled look, she said, “All the seniors are off this week to do a work internship. This is mine.”
“Ah. Right.” Tim vaguely remembered his younger stepbrother Jean-Christophe participating in the same program. J.C. had shadowed a park ranger and had the time of his life. “Think you might want to go into real estate?”
“Maybe?” She glanced at Stacy. “It’s definitely fun.”
“Take a client with impossible standards to fifty different houses only to have him put his hunt on hold before you commit,” Stacy said with a laugh.
“Can you give us a few minutes, Blair? Maybe grab some coffees down the street? Critical part of the experience,” she mock whispered to Tim.
“Agents run on caffeine and open house cupcakes.”
“Sure thing,” Blair said, giving Tim another nervous smile on her way out the door.
Pity flooded Stacy’s face the moment Blair was gone. “I saw the news this morning. It’s all going to come out, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Tim.
“Poor Blair and Alana. Did you forget to ask me something? When we talked yesterday?”
“I just spoke with Woody. He mentioned something we hadn’t heard before,” Tim told her. “Mikko Helle had a big party the Saturday of Labor Day weekend.”
“That’s right.” Stacy’s eyebrows were slightly raised. “Oh shit. Is that when you think she died?”
“We’re still investigating, so I can’t comment on that. You were at the party?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Mikko invited me. It was to celebrate closing on the house.”
Tim had spoken with Stacy several times now, and never once had she brought up the party.
He’d seen Nicole and Stacy mere hours after the remains were found, their foreheads pressed together at the bar.
Surely Nicole had told Stacy what she knew about the crime, and that the victim’s remains were skeletonized.
Why hadn’t Stacy deemed it necessary to mention that Mikko had hosted a large gathering in the house?
Tim had questioned her about her time there, expressly asking how long Stacy had spent on site.
A few hours in all, had been her reply. It was a lie.
“Do a lot of clients invite you to their closing parties?”
“Honestly?” said Stacy. “I think this was the first time, and it’ll probably be the last. But Mikko didn’t know a lot of people here then.”
“Woody said the party was packed.”
“It was, but I think most of the guests were strangers. People he met at the hotel, or the bars around town. He’s that type,” she said. “The more the merrier. What’s yours is mine.”
“That’s very generous of him,” Tim said drily, though Stacy didn’t seem to pick up on the shift in his tone. “Is that the night you caught Woody with Angelica?”
Stacy lowered her eyes. “Believe me, I wish I hadn’t. But yeah. He was in bed with her.”
“When you say in bed, what exactly do you mean?”
Stacy blinked at him, and two dark pink coins surfaced on her cheeks.
“What were they doing, exactly?” Tim pressed. “When you saw them?”
“Detective.” Stacy pretended to look scandalized, a manicured hand pressed to her lips. “They were in bed. What more do you need to know? I saw them. I saw everything.”
“Did you have any interactions with Angelica that night?”
“No. I never even talked to her. I don’t know that woman,” said Stacy. “I didn’t even know her name until Woody confessed to Nicole.”
“Were you drinking at the party?”
Stacy paused. “Well, yeah. We all were. But I know what I saw, and I know what I didn’t.”
A house full of partiers, and Woody, Angelica, and Stacy had all found themselves on the second floor.
If Woody had been honest during his interview, Tim could understand why he and Angelica had sought out a quiet corner.
But why had Stacy been wandering through Mikko’s house, peeking behind bedroom doors?
“Excuse me a minute,” Tim said when his phone buzzed against his thigh. “You have my card. While I take this, could you email me a list of everyone you knew at the party?”
“Like I said, most of the guests were strangers. But yeah. I guess I can do that.”
Tim thanked her, and stepped outside to answer the call.
“What’s up?” he asked. Half a block up the street, he could see Blair walking back to the office in her work attire, two takeout coffees in her hands.
With zero preamble, Valerie Ott said, “It’s about Nicole Durham.”