Aged for Seduction, page 12
“I see,” Olivia said.
“I was behind the screen, getting a cheese and mushroom omelet, when I heard Terence bragging to his group that he was going to take over his dad’s business soon, and be super-wealthy. He said he was a business guru who’d studied all the latest information, and that if any of his friends wanted a job he wouldn’t show them any favors and they’d have to beg and scrape just the same as everyone else.”
Olivia remembered that Terence had used the term “beg and scrape” when insulting Marcello as well. He had seemed to like it.
“Who was in the group?” she asked.
“Well, all the guys in the wedding party. All the groomsmen, as well as Terence’s brother.”
“Lance is younger?” Olivia asked, needing to get the facts straight.
“Yes. Lance is two and a half years younger than Terence and he never lets—” Angelique corrected herself hurriedly. “Terence never used to let him forget it. Honestly, when I look back at his behavior, I’m sorry that I fell so hard for his looks and didn’t focus more on his personality and actions. Then, all of this could have been avoided.”
Olivia nodded understandingly. Given the scenario Angelique had described, she thought Lance, as Terence’s younger brother, had an even bigger motive than the groomsmen. He could have planned to do the deed at the wedding, hoping that in the foreign setting and with so many other suspects, he would get away with it. She would need to be very careful when interviewing Lance, Olivia decided.
Olivia didn’t think Terence would have made a success of his father’s business. Perhaps he’d read How to Lose Friends and Influence People. Or maybe, Olivia mused, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Victims.
“Well, thank you so much. What you’ve said has been really helpful. If you have any other ideas, will you call me?” she asked.
“Of course. Let me write your number down, and you can take mine, too.”
Angelique rummaged in her purse. Olivia guessed she was searching for one of her debt collection business cards, but she never got the chance to hand it over.
At that moment, somebody rapped loudly on the door.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Olivia stared at Angelique in horror. Her heart jumped into her scarf-wrapped throat. This was a disaster! She was trapped in here, with nowhere to hide.
She spun around, desperately scouting the spacious room. The crimson velvet seat had spindly legs and offered no useful cover. The king-size bed’s solid base reached almost to the floor. The red curtains were artfully held back by cords and tassels, and couldn’t conceal a toddler, never mind a trench-coat-wrapped Olivia.
The bathroom didn’t have a door. Olivia could have lamented the modern, broadminded openness of the European design that had only an archway, with the claw-footed bath beyond. The toilet cubicle on the far side had a frosted glass door, but you could still see if someone was inside or not. Plus, whoever was entering the room might need to use the bathroom!
“In here! In here!” Angelique hissed.
She propelled Olivia over to the large wooden wardrobe as the knock sounded again, this time even louder and more impatient.
Was there enough space in this modestly sized wardrobe?
Olivia hesitated, but a determined shove from Angelique sent her scrambling into the restrictive space.
Angelique slammed the door, but thanks to Olivia’s bulky clothing, it didn’t close properly. A crack of light was visible. Olivia shifted back, trying to solve this problem, but when she moved, the floor creaked alarmingly.
She froze. Better just to stay where she was, flattened—as far as being flat in her stifling coat and jersey layers was possible—against the wardrobe’s back wall. She resolved to try not to move at all. Or to breathe.
Olivia snapped her mouth closed as she heard Angelique unlatch the door.
“Hello, Daddy,” she said.
At least it wasn’t Detective Caputi. Small mercies, Olivia thought.
“Hey, my baby girl. I was on my way to the rooftop cocktail lounge and thought I would check in on you,” he said. “Your mother’s joining me there for an early lunch, but she’s taking a walk around the grounds with Granny first. They wanted to explore the hotel’s maze and the vineyard and the golf course. Granny wanted to play croquet on the front lawn, but they’ll probably do that this afternoon if the weather holds. I’ve got a game of tennis organized with Lysander, but if it rains we can book one of the squash courts instead.”
“You can always go for a swim in the heated pool,” Angelique suggested.
Her father sighed. “It’s preposterous that we are being held hostage here. I feel so trapped! I am sure you do, too. It’s unacceptable. Not only has that detective seized your passport, but she’s stationed someone in the lobby to make sure none of us take any luggage out!”
“Yes, Daddy,” Angelique said. “I feel very claustrophobic. I felt like I was in prison the whole time during my four-mile jog around the grounds this morning. Do you think a spa treatment would help me to relax?”
Mr. Miller sighed. “Do it, honey. Book the works. Spoil yourself. But I hope that we can bring this untenable situation to an end as soon as possible, and fly home tomorrow.” He lowered his voice. “It’s obvious to me that none of the wedding party could possibly have committed this crime! Beyond a doubt, the guilty person is that serving woman at the winery, the one who was shooting her mouth off and saying that Terence should be punished.”
Olivia jumped, banging against one of the coat hangers and sending a black jacket slithering off the rail. She grabbed it before the hanger clattered to the ground.
Mr. Miller was talking about her!
“What was that?” he asked, and Olivia froze again, feeling herself start to hyperventilate. How had she managed to get herself into such a perilous situation?
“What was what?” Angelique asked innocently.
“It sounded like a rattling noise.”
“Oh, it’s just the room’s central heating turning on. The mechanism is rather noisy,” Angelique explained.
Olivia had to give it to the blonde, she was a stellar liar who could dream up blatant untruths on the fly and without so much as a quiver in her voice! Olivia resolved to check and double-check Cassidy’s story before believing it.
She clutched at the jacket, noticing it smelled strongly of wine. How was she going to get it, and the hanger, back on the rail without triggering Mr. Miller’s supersensitive hearing again?
Perhaps the best would be to just hold it, Olivia decided. She tuned in again to the conversation taking place beyond the wardrobe doors.
“Anyway,” Mr. Miller continued in a low, confidential tone, “I feel that the best for all of us would be if we can agree on a scenario. I know that everyone was confused and that is actually why I am going room to room, to see if anyone else remembers that serving girl heading out, soon after she told your husband-to-be that he was going to get what he deserved. I remember it clearly, as I was sitting in the restaurant with your mother and recall she seemed very murderous. She might even have stated she was going to kill him.”
Olivia clamped her lips together to stop an astonished choke from escaping. This man was doing his best to get everyone to implicate her, so that they could all go home! How unfair was that?
“I am not sure that version will work,” Angelique said carefully.
Olivia had the impression she was hedging her bets. No doubt, as soon as Olivia was gone, Angelique would tell her father she agreed with him, and that it was a good idea.
“Think it over, honey. Most people I’ve spoken to so far are happy with it,” Mr. Miller reassured her. Olivia clutched the jacket in panic, and then loosened her grip as a paper in the pocket started rustling.
Luckily, Angelique’s father was still in full conversational swing and didn’t hear the small noise. “Tell me, have you tried the alfredo pasta al forno yet? Your mother is not sure whether to order that for lunch, or the prawn fettucine.”
Paper in pocket?
Men’s jacket, reeking of wine, in the honeymoon suite’s wardrobe?
This had to belong to Terence! She remembered him wearing a well-cut dark jacket when he arrived. He had taken it off when the wild drinking and dancing began. Most likely, he’d hung it on the back of his seat and someone had brought it back.
A paper in the pocket could provide information she didn’t yet have. It might even prove to be a clue.
Trying to move soundlessly, Olivia drew it out, conscious of every tiny rustle, and grateful that Angelique was loudly recommending that her mother should have the seafood pizza and a side salad with extra anchovies and Parmesan shavings.
Olivia clutched the paper in her damp palm. She’d gotten it out of the inside pocket where it had been stashed.
Carefully, she folded it over and placed it in her coat pocket.
A moment later, the wardrobe door flew open.
Blinded by light, Olivia let out a shriek.
Angelique stared at her irritably.
“Come on, come on. Don’t make a noise, my dad might hear you and come back.”
“I knocked this off the rail.”
Scrambling out of the wardrobe, Olivia replaced the jacket on its hanger.
She was boiling hot after her confined ordeal, and her nerves felt shredded. So the Millers felt claustrophobic in the hotel and its enormous grounds? Try spending time in here, she thought resentfully.
“Thanks for the information,” she said.
“Don’t worry about my father,” Angelique reassured her. “He won’t be able to get everyone to agree on his version. Kyle and Rog are too stupid to be able to remember a different story, and the Joneses all hate him and will do the opposite of what he asks. Here, take my card before you go.”
Olivia thanked Angelique again, shoving the business card safely into her pocket. Then she hustled out of the suite. The stairway to the rooftop bar was close by. She needed to get out of sight before any more of the family arrived to spend their imprisonment enjoying cocktails and delicious food.
Olivia’s next destination was Cassidy’s room, but when she tapped discreetly on the door, there was no answer. Perhaps Cassidy was having a nap after the stress of the previous night, or maybe she’d headed off for a few laps in the heated pool.
While Olivia was waiting outside, she heard women’s voices from the room on the left.
Remembering that Angelique had said Alice was next door to Cassidy, she moved and knocked again.
It was opened almost immediately, and she found herself staring into Alice’s surprised blue eyes.
Olivia couldn’t help feeling fed up with Alice, who’d caused the entire evening to unravel when she’d irresponsibly kissed the groom, but she wasn’t going to let personal feelings get in the way of her investigation. Taking advantage of the woman’s confusion at finding a trench-coated apparition outside her door, Olivia pushed her way in and quickly removed her shades.
“Don’t be scared,” she told Alice, who was gaping at her in astonishment. “I’m the sommelier from La Leggenda. Remember me?”
“I remember you,” the other occupant of the room said in a soft, threatening voice. “What are you doing here? The police mentioned you were a suspect. Surely suspects shouldn’t be walking around this hotel and barging into people’s rooms?”
The petite, dark-haired woman sat in a full lotus yoga pose on one of the twin beds, frowning dubiously at Olivia. She remembered this was Dinah, the bridesmaid who’d encouraged the others to be responsible. If only they’d taken her advice more seriously.
“I’m trying to help,” Olivia explained.
“Help how?” Dinah wasn’t buying her story. “You’re not a cop. What right do you have to ask where we were and what we were doing? I think you should leave, right now, before we call the cops.” She glanced meaningfully at Alice.
“I was working at the event all night, so I’m hoping that I might have seen or heard something that could identify the killer,” Olivia said quickly. She knew she had only a few moments to change Dinah’s mind before her patience evaporated and she made good on her threat. “The police didn’t have the benefit of being on site at the time. Plus, I know how trapped you all feel here as you aren’t allowed to travel outside of La Locanda. The sooner we find out who killed Terence, the sooner all of you can leave the hotel and go home,” Olivia explained.
Alice burst into loud, hysterical sobs.
“It wasn’t my fault! Everyone thinks so but they’re all wrong! This whole situation got blown out of proportion. How could anyone think I would have kissed my own sister’s husband-to-be? He simply hugged me and Angelique invented the rest! Nobody even cares how upset I am about this, apart from Lysander who comforted me after I was publicly humiliated!”
Sitting on the bed beside Alice and making sympathetic noises, Olivia wasn’t sure she believed that version. She also warned herself that Alice’s vehement denial could be because she’d committed the crime.
“Have a chocolate,” she said, taking the Ferrero Rochers out of her jacket pocket. “Chocolate always makes things better.”
“Thank you,” Alice sniffed, unwrapping the chocolate. She appeared calmer as she ate it.
“I was in the ladies’ bathroom at the time it happened,” Dinah said, unwinding herself from her yoga pose and passing Alice a Kleenex. She seemed more cooperative now, to Olivia’s relief. “Jewel was getting sick. I went to help her. When you drink too much, you need someone to hold your head steady and keep your hair out of the way.”
Olivia was encouraged by this eyewitness testimony. This was important information. She remembered that Gramma B had seen Jewel heading for the bathroom, looking green. Jean-Pierre had been equally green after cleaning it. Undoubtedly, Jewel had been sick in there.
That ruled Jewel and Dinah off the list.
“I do have some other interesting information,” Dinah added. She moved to the mat in front of the bed and stood on one leg, with her arms curved up above her. Olivia had no idea what that pose was called. Tree, maybe?
“What information?” she asked.
“It is just a rumor. But I was told that a month ago, while he was engaged, Terence went out with Madeline to a music concert while Angelique was at a college grads get-together. And I heard that they only got back in the morning.”
She gave Olivia a sly glance and then serenely returned to being a tree.
“You mean that he cheated on her?” Olivia was appalled! A month before the wedding?
“Yes. Madeline told Miranda, who told Molly, who told me. And I told Cassidy, who told Jewel.”
Olivia felt astounded, not only by the information, but by the fact that Dinah was composed enough to deliver the shocking revelation while balanced on one leg, without even wobbling.
Why had nobody spilled the beans to the bride? Had they all been too scared of being the messenger?
“Did nobody tell Angelique?” Olivia asked the burning question.
Dinah shrugged. “I guess none of us knew everything, except Madeline. So none of us said anything. Wouldn’t be fair to either of them, would it?”
Olivia guessed there was cold logic in there somehow.
She couldn’t help flashing back again to what a drastic error of judgment she’d made in planning to marry Ward. She was sure he had behaved exactly the same way as Terence in the weeks before the wedding. Like Angelique, she had been blissfully ignorant of his cheating ways.
“Do you know which room Madeline is staying in?” she asked.
Dinah nodded, moving into a kneeling position and then placing her hands on the ground and arching upward like a cat.
“She’s on the second floor, first room on the right after the elevator. I’m not sure of the number.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said.
She hurried out of the room, encouraged that she was learning some important tidbits of information. She definitely knew more than she’d done an hour ago.
She got into the elevator and pushed the button for the second floor. But, as the doors were about to close, they pinged open again.
Olivia’s heart stopped as Detective Caputi walked into the elevator.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Instinctively, Olivia ducked her head, pretending to rummage in her coat pocket as Detective Caputi pressed the button.
She couldn’t breathe. For a start, her heart was jammed in her throat. Also, she was too terrified to make any sound that might draw the detective’s attention to her.
Fortunately, the policewoman appeared impatient and preoccupied—at any rate, from her staring-at-the-floor vantage point, Olivia thought her feet seemed restless. She could see her black, polished ankle boot tapping on the elevator carpet.
Olivia would go straight to prison if her cover was blown. She’d been warned, and knew that by coming here, she’d be rubbing shoulders with the short-tempered detective.
Olivia just hadn’t expected that she would end up trapped in the same four square yards of confined space!
She nearly jumped out of her skin as her phone gave a soft beep. Instinctively, she clamped a hand over her pocket. What a time to receive an incoming message.
The detective drew in her breath sharply and Olivia almost shrieked with tension. Had Caputi spied a stray blond hair adhering to the black beanie?
Olivia risked the tiniest upward flicker of her eyes, and saw the detective was staring at her own phone. She was frowning, tut-tutting to herself, clearly unhappy with the information she had received.
She heard a ping. Then boots clicked, retreating down the passageway.
Olivia lifted her head. Black spots floated in front of her eyes as she gulped in air.
She was on floor two, where she’d intended to get off. She couldn’t now, of course. Not when the detective was prowling around that level. She needed to get out of this hotel immediately. There was too much risk that Detective Caputi would bump into her again, and next time, she might not be so distracted.
