Chapter 20 – Lily
LILY
The water droplets on the table make excellent paint as I draw tiny hearts in the moisture. My eyes are heavy, mind melting like the polar ice caps, and I’m trying to find the willpower to drag myself off this chair.
“Girl, what is going on with you today?” Amara asks, and my gaze finds hers.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.” She pulls out the seat to sit across from me, her natural brown curls bouncing as she does.
“Also, you were here when we opened, and girl, I love you, but you look like you were clubbing till six a.m.” I glance at my outfit from the gala.
I’d meant to walk home but wandered the streets for hours instead, lost in thought, until a coffee called my name.
“You are not a clubbing-till-six-a.m. type of girl.”
“I was not clubbing.” Leaning against the seat, I force a smile. “There’s just a work project I can’t quite figure out.”
“If you ever need a wall to bounce ideas off”—she waves a hand at herself—“I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”
I take a long pull of my third coffee of the morning, then set it back down. “I’m not sure you can help with this one.”
“What’s it about?”
A delicious-looking man who’s assumedly a serial killer.
The rich and suspicious.
Relocated corpses.
“Art,” I say simply. As if everything I witnessed last night can be encapsulated to that single word.
“Really?” She waves her hands around at the walls filled with paintings. “I live and breathe it. I also majored in art history in college. Why do you think my foam creations are such masterpieces?”
“I thought there was some kind of special barista school you went to or something,” I tease, and she nudges me with her foot under the table.
“Hey, those masterpieces are alllll me.”
I shift in my seat, trying to determine what to share. Exactly what could she help with? She stares at me expectantly. “What do you know about taxidermy art?”
Amara grimaces. “It’s not my favorite.”
“Yeah, mine either,” I grumble.
“Are you talking about Isla Westerford?”
I attempt to mask my surprise. “You know her?”
“Of course. She’s world-renowned in the art world and a bit of a local celebrity.”
“For those weird animal things?”
“Yep.” She huffs a laugh. “But I’ve always thought it was bullshit.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, curiosity piqued.
“She claims to get millions for these pieces that are hardly something special. The stones aren’t even real.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, a hundred percent,” she says with complete conviction.
“So you don’t think they’re really selling for that much? Why lie?”
“I mean…” She taps her pen against the table. “It’s possible they get that much. I just doubt it’s for that particular art…”
“Amara,” a barista calls from behind the counter, drawing our attention to the sight of a forming line. “Little help?”
“Coming,” she calls out, standing and turning to face me, her voice low.
“Those pieces are interesting and different… but not a million dollars different. Hell, one of Van Gogh’s paintings sold for less a few years ago.
Van Gogh!” She huffs a laugh. “So if you want my resident art nerd opinion, I think those sparkle carcasses are bullshit.”
Amara turns, sauntering to the counter, leaving me with that bombshell and my thoughts. I don’t know much, but what I do know is I need to get back into that house.
Something is awry at the Westerford estate, and I’m going to find out what it is.
“Penny for your thoughts?” a familiar voice asks, sliding in the seat Amara just vacated.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Aster, eyes dropping to his fresh clothes, then up to his wet hair. “And when the hell did you find the time to shower?”
“It’s noon.” He takes a sip of his beverage in a to-go cup. “I’ve already showered, worked out, and did some recon on last night’s victim.”
“You didn’t mention sleep,” I point out, and he shrugs. “Guess that makes two of us.”
His eyes soften as he stands, holding out a hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m walking you home. You need to rest.” My exhaustion overtakes my urge to argue, and I place my hand in his.
He tugs me to stand, eyes holding mine as his thumb slides over my knuckles, and I pull away, heading for the door, with him quick on my heels.
Amara gives me a cheeky smirk and an eyebrow waggle as we leave, and I wave her off.
When we’re on the street, Aster shrugs off his denim jacket and hooks it on my shoulders like he did last night. He has to stop being so nice. I keep forgetting the horrible things he’s done.
“What did you find out so far?” I ask.
“Victim’s name is Karolyn Heinzel. She was twenty-eight. Cause of death is obviously unknown since there was no body. It’s been ruled a homicide given the photos from the Kodak Killer, and you and I know that’s true.”
A man passes by, and once he’s out of earshot, I ask, “Anything else?”
“According to the police report, she was attending the Blue Heart Charity Benefit in the city hours before the photo was received.”
My eyes fly to his. “What?”
“That’s what the report says.”
“But that’s—”
“A bald-faced lie? Yep.”
“Aren’t they worried someone from the art auction will come forward mentioning they saw her?”
He shakes his head. “The people at the event last night are all wealthy. Untouchables. They wouldn’t risk involvement in a murder investigation. Especially not if it puts them in the crosshairs with the Westerfords. That theory was proven when I went and talked to Vetrel this morning.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, but he didn’t give me shit. He assured me Karolyn left right after I’d seen them together.”
“Do you think he did it?”
Aster shrugs. “Nah, if anything he’d probably have one of his goons do it. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to get his own hands dirty.”
“But why the Blue Heart benefit?”
“There were hundreds of people there. It wouldn’t be possible for someone to say they knew for sure she wasn’t.”
“So, Karolyn was murdered. Her body was relocated for a photo shoot. Then there’s some bogus story about her whereabouts. Why? Why all the deception?”
“Well, my assumption is someone really doesn’t want it known she was killed at the Westerford estate.”
“But who? We know Jude and Isla were in the auction room when it happened.”
“Maybe? We don’t know when the auction started, and”—a wide smirk spreads across his face—“we were a little distracted for a few minutes there.”
“Hey!” I smack his chest. “That was purely a save-our-asses make-out session.”
“You grinded against me.”
My mouth falls open. “I did not!”
He nods, biting his lower lip between his teeth. “You did.”
“That was acting.” I wave jazz hands for dramatic effect. “Or did you want to get caught?”
“You’re a good actress,” he says with a dangerous smile. “But you’re not that good.”
My stomach flutters, cheeks burning. “We’re never talking about this ever again.”
“That’s fine.” He reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, then grazes his thumb against my neck, and I shiver. “When we kiss for the first time, for real, that’s the one I want you to remember.”
My heart thumps like a bass drum, and I nudge him away, desperate to regain the ability to think clearly. “Did you forget the friend zone to serial killer to lovers talk we had last night? Or do you need a refresher?”
“Ohh,” he hums. “So we’re on the ‘to lovers’ track then?”
“No!” My face reddens, stomach fluttering with a billion butterflies that ought to drop dead immediately. I need sleep before I say anything else idiotic. “Aster Blake. Shut. It. Down.”
He chuckles. “Shut what down?”
“The”—I wave a hand at him—“flirty love talk. Shut it down.”
He rolls his eyes, then juts out his lower lip in an adorable little pout. “You’re no fun.”
“I’ll have you know I am considered the fun aunt!” I counter, trying to get the topic off me, and us, and us together. And us in compromising but delicious positions.
He places a hand between my shoulders, veering me into a driveway, and I blink up to realize it’s mine. He had me so distracted, I hardly realized we were nearly here. “You are going to go get some rest before you sleepwalk into traffic.”
We ascend the steps, and at the front door, I turn to face him. “And what about you?”
“I’ve got a few things to take care of, but I’ll be back here at eight.” He retreats with a grin. “Wear something comfortable.”