Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER
Eleven
If there was one thing I was good at, it was my fake smile.
And also choosing the perfect outfit for an occasion.
And also solving murders. Okay, I was good at a lot of things, and they were all relevant as I picked my way down the stairs of Kevin’s private resort, clad in the perfect flowy white sundress that screamed innocent young woman and the bright yet calm smile that screamed innocent young woman who you really want to spill secrets to.
A quick scan of the stretch of beach behind the resort showed that Cora and her husband were not yet among the few people hanging out enjoying the view—it was getting close to sunset—or sipping a drink by the bar.
Gabe and I decided to divide and conquer—I’d chat up a few of the people near the bar, while he’d go down to the sand.
We recognized some of the guests from my gala, though most had alibis from the photos; still, maybe someone would be able to tell us something useful.
“Don’t get too sucked into anything,” Gabe told me before heading off.
“I really want us to go for a walk on the beach at sunset.”
I didn’t have much time to worry more about how weird he was being, because I was accosted by Denise Ryan the moment I wafted over toward the bar.
She was nearly at the bottom of something fruity; at least three cherries floated in what was mostly ice by now.
“Pom,” she said, smiling. Her teeth were tinted pink. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Oh, it was kind of a last-minute thing,” I said. “But it’s so nice to see you!”
“Is that handsome hunk of yours here too?” She said it with a self-conscious grin, making fun of herself. At least partially. Or maybe she wanted to take a bite out of my handsome hunk.
“Yes, he’s down at the beach. He wanted to rest for a bit by the water.”
“Can’t blame him,” Denise said, taking one last sip of her drink. The ice rattled as she set the glass down and pushed it away. I looked longingly at the cherries. “So annoying to take a ferry ride after a flight.”
I blinked. “You didn’t fly direct to the airstrip?”
“He has an airstrip suitable for a jet?”
I nodded. Poor Denise. Her assistant was totally going to get fired for this. “You’ll have to tell your captain to pick you up from here directly.”
“Oh my, I definitely will.” She raised her hand, signaling the bartender for another drink.
I raised my hand, too, indicating that I’d have whatever she was having.
It looked good, in that I liked my alcohol to contain a surplus of cherries.
“Anyway, Pom, how are you? I’ve been thinking of you, after everything that happened.
” She gave me gooey eyes. I had to look away so I wouldn’t get all sticky with her sympathy.
“Your very first gala, and there’s a murder.
It’s enough to make you never want to be charitable again, huh? ”
That was an odd thing for her to say, considering she’d made it her life’s work to give away all the money she’d gotten from her ex-husband.
But I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers, at least not when they weren’t filling out a gloriously soft mattress.
“For real,” I said. The bartender slid our drinks in front of us.
To my great pleasure, I saw he’d put not one, not two, not even three, but four cherries in mine.
“Not going to lie, I’ve had a hard time with it.
But not as hard a time as the people who loved Conrad Phlume, right? ”
Denise barked a laugh. It had an edge hard enough to leave a bruise. “Was there anyone who loved him?”
Probably a callous thing to say about a murder victim, but also probably true. “Maybe a mistress or two?”
She cackled. “He used to ‘tease’ me for being a former bartender, and by ‘tease’ I mean he’d constantly bring it up as a way to invalidate whatever I had to say.
Funnily enough, it was never in front of my ex-husband.
Not like it mattered.” Something dark glittered in her eyes.
“It wasn’t as if my ex ever reminded people that the reason I’d bartended was so that he could focus full-time on his start-up that wasn’t making any money. ”
Old Pom would’ve just asked, with genuine puzzlement, why their parents didn’t help them out.
New Pom nodded sympathetically and wondered if she could drop a hint about how, if Denise had been able to take advantage of a living grant from the Pomona Afton Foundation, she wouldn’t have had to work two jobs. It would probably be crass.
But what the hell. My reputation had taken a dive into the toilet anyway. “By the way, we never got to finish our conversation from the gala. These kids deserve the world, and you can help give it to them.”
“Of course they do,” she said. “But, Pom…”
“What?” I tried not to snap.
“To be frank with you, my ex-husband and I are locked in a battle of reputations. If I’m involved with anything that has even a whiff of scandal attached to it…”
“Of course,” I said flatly.
“I’m so glad you understand,” she said, taking another sip of her drink.
The bartender had somehow refilled it without my even noticing.
A true genius at his craft. “But come now, we’re at a party.
We’re supposed to be having fun.” She leaned back, so now I was flooded with the smell of salt and sand, brine and ocean.
Music strummed softly in the background.
I thought it was a speaker, but then I noticed the trio of string players set up on the beach.
“You and that handsome hunk of yours, when are you getting married?”
Was this her trying to feel out how serious we were? “We’ve discussed it,” I said vaguely. “It’s in the cards.”
“Oh, really?” The response hadn’t come from Denise; it had come from behind me.
Freaking Peach—no, Nectarine—no, Persimmon sashayed around me, all dolled up in a floral maxi dress that was appropriately floaty for the occasion but whose pastel colors washed out her pale hair.
“Then where is he? He didn’t have to stay home and work, did he? ”
“He’s around here somewhere.” I spoke through clenched teeth.
I really wanted another sip of my drink, but I wasn’t sure the liquid would make it through.
Besides, I was getting enough ice from my new nemesis that I might end up with brain freeze.
“I didn’t realize you knew Kevin.” I did, of course, but considering I’d learned it through social media research, it would be a faux pas to admit it.
Besides, I didn’t want her thinking I’d looked her up.
“You don’t realize a lot of things, it seems!
” she said, and tittered, though we both knew she wasn’t joking.
She slithered her way neatly between Denise and me to signal the bartender for a drink of her own.
Denise took the hint and wandered off to another cluster of people closer to her age.
“I was Kevin’s date to your gala. I’m sure you were so busy, you didn’t even notice me. ”
She sounded kind of hurt. Though, to be fair, she could have made sure I noticed her by, like, saying hello to me or something? This definitely was not entirely on me. “So he’s your… boyfriend?”
She tittered again, covering her mouth with one dainty hand. Orange polish gleamed on her fingernails. “You could say that. I do hate the word, though. ‘Boyfriend’ sounds so… juvenile, wouldn’t you agree?”
I might not remember her at the gala, but I did remember introducing Gabe as my boyfriend at the art gallery. I didn’t let my smile falter. “Oh, I’m sorry. You wouldn’t want to be juvenile when you’re dating such a… distinguished fellow.” Aka old man.
She didn’t let hers falter either. “We’ve been discussing marriage.
That’s one perk of seeing someone older—they don’t want to waste any time.
” Ouch, that was a dig at me. “I haven’t decided how I want him to propose yet.
If I want something small and intimate, like a dinner flown from my favorite restaurant to a remote mountaintop, or something big and splashy, like a surprise yacht party. ”
That was also a dig at me. And Gabe. That I was dating a poor.
But there was no chance I was going to let her think she’d won. Besides, grimacing gives you wrinkles, or so said the part of my internal monologue that sounded scarily like my mother.
“You know, we’ve also been discussing it,” I lied.
“I’ve always dreamed of a proposal on my favorite private island.
Not one in the Caribbean—there’s nothing wrong with the Caribbean, of course, but I feel like I’m here so often it’s not special.
” Hopefully my host wasn’t in earshot. I had no grudge with the Caribbean, I just had something against Persimmon.
“A family friend has an island in the Maldives that’s the most spectacular place I’ve ever been.
I’m imagining us going snorkeling on our private reef and that’s where he’s hidden the ring.
He proposes at sunset, while the water is sparkling with the colors of fire—not on one knee, of course; the coral will shred your knees and also it’s bad for the environment to touch it—and then we swim back to the island only to find that all of my friends and family are there for a giant party and they’ve actually seen the entire proposal from afar, with a professional drone operator having taken photos and video from above. ”
Persimmon raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Sounds lovely. Though I imagine you can’t hide a very big ring in there.”
That wasn’t what she was saying, unless she knew absolutely nothing about coral. She was shading Gabe—I imagine your teacher boyfriend can’t afford a very big ring.