Chapter 8
8
10:01 p.m. Thursday, October 31
“ Y ou know, before I met you, I used to think PI work was glamorous,” Riley said on a yawn. The cash bar hadn’t deterred the gala’s attendees from overindulging. Many of Harrisburg’s wealthiest couldn’t seem to hold the liquor they’d paid for. There had already been a slap fight at the chocolate fountain, and Griffin was currently dirty dancing with a state senator and the daughter of a district magistrate.
“You say that sitting here in a gown made for Jessica Rabbit after eating two plates of fancy-ass finger food and eavesdropping on the thoughts of Harrisburg’s one percent,” Nick pointed out, forking up a bite of cake as the string quartet switched to a classical version of Taylor Swift’s “Anti-Hero.”
“Yeah, but I’m boooored. It’s been an hour since you assaulted anyone with a condiment,” Riley teased. “Hey. Where did you get cake? The only dessert I saw was the fourteen-carat-gold trifle.”
“Garvey’s boyfriend,” Nick said with his mouth full. “Said it’s for a wedding this weekend.”
“You’re eating someone’s wedding cake ?”
He held out a bite to her. “Hey, it’s not like I cut it.”
She was about to explain to him that it wasn’t in his best karmic interests to eat someone else’s wedding cake before the actual wedding when she spotted a familiar-looking woman in a silver mask and a chic bohemian gown hovering near the bar. It was hard to tell with the mask, but it looked as if she were staring straight at Griffin as he sucked up all the attention on the dance floor.
“Hey, I think that’s Claudia Mendoza,” she whispered, craning her neck when two large men in white jackets and matching masquerade masks lumbered by and headed for the stairs.
“Why are we whispering?” Nick asked.
“She’s one of the suspects. She’s the anchor Griffin’s dad fired. I recognize the tattoo on her shoulder.”
“Why don’t you go interview her?” he said.
“Me?” Riley squeaked.
“Yeah, you. You’ve met her before, right?”
“Yes, but?—”
“You’re a badass psychic who’s learning how to investigate shit, right?”
She nodded. “Also yes. Again but .”
“Then go on over there and ask her a couple of questions.”
Riley bit her lower lip. “What if I screw it up?”
“Then I’ll come over and throw shrimp tails in her hair,” he said, his dimples appearing beneath his mask. “Think of it as practice. You and Gabe practice the psychic stuff all the time. This is the same except you’re just trying to figure out if she was in town this morning.”
She pouted. “You’re just making me do it because you want to sit here and eat your cake.”
“It’s really good cake.”
She slapped his thigh. “Nick!”
He laughed. “You’ve got this, Thorn. You’re the queen of polite. You’re a damn genius when it comes to getting people to open up. And that’s even without your secret mind-reading weapon.”
Riley straightened her shoulders. He was right. She could do this. Or at least she should be able to do this. She blew out a breath. “Okay. Fine. But try not to steal anyone else’s celebratory desserts while I’m gone.”
She left Nick and his cake at the table and gave herself a pep talk on the way to the bar. She was a badass investigator in training. She could talk to people about stuff.
The woman was definitely giving Griffin the death glare. She had thick dark hair that curled around her shoulders, partially camouflaging the tattoo of a lotus blossom.
“Excuse me. Are you Claudia Mendoza?”
The woman in question turned her back on the view of the dance floor and gave Riley a hair-to-shoes once-over. “Yes?”
“I’m Riley Thorn. We met briefly at the broadcasting brunch a few years ago. I thought I’d come reintroduce myself.”
Claudia’s red lips pursed. “Hmm, Riley Thorn. Why do I know that name?” She spoke as if she were narrating a traffic jam on Route 83.
Riley didn’t have to feign her grimace. “I’ve been in the news once or twice in the past few months.”
Claudia’s brown eyes sharpened. “Ah, yes. The psychic who survived the trigger-happy mayor and saved everyone from the bomb at Channel 50.”
“I used to work there.”
Claudia toyed with the stack of bracelets she wore on her wrist. “Yes, well. So did I once upon a time.”
The mask made it hard for Riley to judge the woman’s facial expressions, but there was no mistaking the bitterness emanating from her. It was an experience worth bonding over, Riley decided.
“I got fired from Channel 50…by my ex-husband, Griffin Gentry.”
An elegant eyebrow arched over Claudia’s mask. “Is that so?”
“Well, I couldn’t really keep working there anyway after he decided to leave me for the weather girl.”
Claudia’s smile was feline as she slipped an arm around Riley’s shoulders. “Let’s have a drink and chat, shall we?”
Riley ordered a glass of white wine and followed her quarry to a cocktail table where they could observe the rich and fabulous around them.
“That man has quite the track record, doesn’t he?” Claudia asked as they watched Griffin kiss the knuckles of one woman while making awkward bedroom eyes at her friend. “And he’s never once paid the price for his sins.”
“I keep hoping someone will hold him accountable eventually,” Riley said as she once again mentally rolled up her spiritual garage doors. She drew the psychic ethics line at forcing herself into people’s heads unless it was a life-or-death situation. But if she happened to catch snatches of thoughts that they broadcast…well, that was slightly less icky.
“Yes, well. I’ve turned all my revenge fantasies over to karma. She’ll take care of him…eventually.”
“Any tips on how to forgive and forget? Because every time I see his face, I just want to throw something,” Riley admitted.
“Here’s a page out of my playbook,” Claudia offered. “First I let the bitterness simmer for a few years. Then I continued to let it eat away at me while I used it as fuel to achieve. Every rung of the ladder I’ve climbed has been so I could one day stand over him and rub his little pig nose in my success. I’m the highest-paid anchor on Channel 49. I won four Dillys. And I bought my parents a condo in Sarasota.”
She paused and took a delicate sip of her champagne, still watching Griffin. Then she put the glass down and deliberately turned her back on the man.
“And then I realized I was still miserable. I woke up one day and discovered that making choices to spite someone doesn’t lead to happiness. So off I went on a self-healing journey.” She plucked absently at one of the threads on the embroidered wrap she wore draped over her elbows.
“What did that entail?” Riley asked.
“Oh, I tried therapy for the helplessness. I took up boxing for the rage. Then I went to a tarot card reader and asked to see Griffin’s downfall. Instead, she showed me a journey. So I packed my things, took a sabbatical, and booked a flight.”
The kerfuffle around the chocolate fountain had reignited, this time spilling over to the dessert table. Insults and plates of tiny desserts were hurled back and forth. Griffin didn’t seem to be involved, but a bowl of pudding landed rather close to him.
“Where did you go?” Riley asked, trying to stay focused on the conversation at hand while signaling Nick to stay focused on Griffin.
Claudia seemed oblivious to the drama erupting around them. “First I went to visit my parents in Colombia. Then I went to an ashram in India and meditated for forty-five days, the first thirty of which I meditated on all the ways I wanted Griffin’s life to implode. And then on day thirty-one, all that hatred, all that frustration was just…gone.”
Riley’s nose twitched, and she was treated to a sudden flash of Claudia in wrinkled off-white linen on a meditation cushion in a stuffy, windowless room surrounded by more than a dozen other sweaty people desperate for enlightenment. It didn’t smell good.
“Wow,” she said, not sure what else she could say.
“Yeah, it was a real eat-meditate-forgive kind of experience.” Claudia tapped a manicured finger to her chin. “I might write a book about it.”
“And now you’re fine being in the same room with him?” Riley pressed.
“Of course. I’ve evolved. I’ve found inner peace. Every year, I go away to a spa in upstate New York for a silent meditation retreat and juice fast. I come back feeling even healthier and more at peace. I just got back yesterday afternoon.”
Knowing what was required, Riley gasped theatrically. “I wondered why your skin was glowing.”
Claudia gave her thick hair a shake. “It’s all the broccoli sprouts I eat,” she said conspiratorially.
“I’ll keep that in mind for my healing journey.”
“Lay it on me,” Nick said when Riley returned to the table.
“Well, I learned that broccoli sprouts make your skin glow.”
“Gross.”
“And that Claudia claims she’s given up her animosity toward Griffin after years of working on herself.”
“Hence the broccoli sprouts.”
“Exactly. She also just got back into town yesterday from a spa retreat.”
“Did your spidey senses tell you anything?”
“She isn’t lying about all the self-work she’s been doing. But she also stood at the bar glaring eyeball daggers at Griffin for a good five minutes before I interrupted her. I remember her doing a special report years ago from a gun range where she shot up a target with what looked like expert precision. I think she stays on the list.”
“God, you’re sexy when you get all investigate-y.”
“Are you sure it isn’t just the dress?”
Nick rose from his chair and held out a hand to her. “It’s the whole package, baby. Come on.”
“Where are we going?” she asked as he led her away from the table.
“It’s my birthday. I’m gonna dance with my girl.”
Nick twirled her once on the dance floor, then drew her into his arms just as the cellos and violins eased into an instrumental version of “Love Me Like You Do.”
“Birthday boy’s got moves,” Riley observed.
“Just wait until I get out of this straitjacket. Then I’ll show you some moves that’ll make your eyes roll back in your head.”
“And people say romance is dead,” she teased. “Where did you learn to dance?”
“My aunt Nancy was an amateur ballroom dance competitor who was always between partners. By the time she moved on to her next hobby of real estate mogul, all of us cousins knew how to bust the right moves.”
“How many cousins do you have?”
“It feels like hundreds. Let’s not talk about my screwy family. Let’s talk about us. You know how much I like working for myself? Not answering to anybody? Setting my own schedule?” he asked.
“I am aware.”
“You make it all ten times better.”
Her feet faltered, but Nick didn’t let her miss a step. “I don’t know what to do when you get all sneaky sweet on me like that,” she admitted.
“Maybe you should try getting used to it,” he suggested, spinning her out only to reel her back in.
“I’ll take that under consideration,” she said, appreciating the warmth of his body against hers. She was the lucky one, she realized as Nick dipped her low, holding her effortlessly. Just a few short years ago, she’d been in a very different position.
Her eyes were drawn to a movement over his shoulder. “Oh, hell. Griffin!”
“I realize I’m wearing a mask, but I thought the height and general charm would have tipped you off, Thorn. I’m Nick,” he said, still holding her in the dip.
“No! Griffin!” she said, pointing.
He pulled her back to her feet and spun them around. “Crap,” he muttered.
Their client was balanced precariously on the top step of the grand staircase, waving at the gathering like he were some sort of benevolent despot. The shadows behind him seemed to be moving. There was a flash of white, and warning bells rang in Riley’s head. Someone was standing behind Griffin.
Nick was already on the move, fighting his way through the crowd. Riley picked up the skirt of her dress and jogged after him just as Griffin pitched forward down the stairs.