Bouquet of Lies Part 24

"I told him guns scared me and . . ."

"And what?"

"And not to leave it here. I didn't need a gun and he seemed sort of upset about it and then he told me he couldn't see me-"

"Because you didn't want a gun?"

"No. Because he was busy and we couldn't go to dinner. And then as he was leaving he told me to think about it."

"About not going to dinner?"

"No. About having a gun and learning to shoot. And it's all I've been thinking about. And I called him and told him I would, but he didn't pick up and now I'm scared he doesn't want anything to do with me."

"And then you had this dream. Well, fear not, little sis. I'm sure he broke your date because he was busy, not because you don't like guns."

"That's what the Reverend Irene said."

Lacey went rigid. Darla was still talking to the charlatan. Between the murders, Randy's sudden proposal, and the fake psychic, it felt like wolves were at the door. Maybe she should get a gun. "Think you can sleep now?"

"I think so. Sorry I woke you." Darla pulled the blanket up higher and buried her head in her pillow.

That pillow should be made of sand, thought Lacey as she went back to bed.

The next day was busy. Lacey helped Darla find a dress. They visited three different bridal shops. The gown would have to fit off the rack. Minor adjustments were okay, but only minor. There wasn't enough time for anything else.

Right off the bat it was clear the two sisters had different visions. Darla wanted something fancy. Froufrou, Lacey stopped saying and started thinking after it was clear froufrou was Darla's taste. It would look funny in their backyard with so few people present, Edward sneering, and Daddy not there to give the bride away. Also, Darla was a stick. The dresses she liked were so lavish they made her disappear.

Lacey started concentrating on who she could finagle into coming to the sham event. Her friends, of course. And maybe she would issue a memo to all employees of Bouquet Industries: You are cordially invited to the inappropriate nuptials of Miss Darla Bouquet to Mr. Randy Barber. Be there with bells on or forget about a raise. She chuckled and thought of Dan suddenly. He would be her date. She wondered how many friends he had.

"Lacey! Lacey, what do you think?"

Lacey looked up. Darla was a vision in white. It wasn't froufrou; it was perfection. A taffeta draped A-line gown with beaded lace appliques on the bodice and skirt, available in size zero. It fit her to a tee. The dress consultant must have gotten through to her.

By late afternoon they'd also arranged for flowers. Lacey would give a little more thought to the number of chairs they were going to need before she contracted for that. Darla was back on cloud nine with the progress they made. And it didn't hurt that Randy called. He wanted to take her to a movie.

Tiffany didn't call. Lacey wasn't surprised. She phoned Jake's cell to ask for another ride to the Hotel Pamela and learned he was on the road. He'd taken off for a few days to think about Darla. To be precise, he used the word skedaddled which didn't make him sound overly depressed, but still, he was feeling bad enough to go away.

"No driving over a cliff," she told him and at least he laughed.

"No cliffs. Maybe a precipice or two."

"Nothing over three feet high."

"I'll measure first. Lacey, don't worry."

"You should've let Darla know how you feel."

"I didn't want to scare her."

"And look how that worked out. Come back and take me with you."

"I will if you want me to."

"No. Better not. I've got a hotel to stalk."

She called for a taxi and asked the driver to wait when they reached the Hotel Pamela. He pulled a gun from the glove compartment and placed it on his lap. "Don' be too long. I don' wan have to use."

Lacey grimaced and hopped out.

The gatekeeper looked the same. Feet up. Beer belly. TV. Only this time he smirked in recognition and talked. "Lookie here. It's a party."

"What are you talking about?"

"The cops are upstairs." He motioned with his head and popped some peanuts into his mouth.

"Why? What happened?"

"They showed up ten minutes ago asking about your friend."

"What? Why?"

"Oh, yeah. The cops filled me in on everything. We're like this." He crossed two fingers and held them up.

"Well, is she here?"

"Nope."

"Where'd she go?"

"Do I look like her mother? She came home yesterday. Went upstairs. Came down with a suitcase and said she was moving."

The blood drained from Lacey's face. She was gone? Now how would she find her? And what had she done that made the cops come running?

"What about Honey? She should know where she went."

"Honey strolled on out of here a couple hours later all gussied up for some hotsy-totsy date. Of course, I use the term date loosely. And she ain't been back."

"And now the police are here. Something bad happened."

"Hey, you catch on quick. Here's some more info for that steel-trap brain. The cops are from homicide."

Lacey's body went cold. Homicide? And they were asking about Tiffany? Who was dead? Tiffany? Or had she killed someone? And what about Honey? Lacey's stomach tied itself in knots. She'd talked to Stark, now he was dead. She'd come looking for Tiffany and now homicide detectives were here. Was she jumping to conclusions or was she leaving bodies in her wake?

"Looks like we got an empty apartment when the cops are done tossing the place. You interested?" He crisscrossed his ankles and popped some more peanuts.

Her shoes felt like they'd been nailed to the floor. She couldn't decide whether to run out or run upstairs. If she went upstairs she'd have to explain why she was there and how would that help anything? This case these cops were investigating couldn't have anything to do with her. She backed toward the door.

"Hey. Where you going? Shall I tell the cops you dropped by?" He got out of the chair and waddled to the counter. With a smirk, he tapped his finger beside the slot where money and keys slipped through. "Or you want that kept on the q.t.?"

Pay him to keep his mouth shut? She considered it for half a second then remembered she'd left a message on Honey and Tiffany's answering machine. Right on cue her cell phone rocked and the ID let her know the call came from Tiffany and Honey's phone. Should she talk to the cops now or buy some time? She let the call roll to voice mail.

"Tell them whatever you want."

She hurried to the taxi and had the driver take her to Dan's.

Twenty-three.

DAN GRINNED WHEN he answered the door and found Lacey on his doorstep. She hadn't told him she was coming over. But, he reminded himself, he shouldn't be surprised. She wasn't one to stand on ceremony. If there was one thing he knew for certain, when it came to Lacey, he should expect the unexpected.

For instance, since she was here, he would expect her to barge into his living room and, in her most provocative and teasing of ways, rant about the fact that he hadn't called since their date. He should have, but he hadn't. And now, here she was, not barging in.

He pulled her inside, put his arms around her, and pressed his cheek against hers. "Last night was incredible. I've been wondering all day how I could possibly top it."

Her arms held him loosely with hands still clutching her purse. She said nothing. Maybe she was honestly peeved that he hadn't phoned. He tightened his embrace.

"So, I thought, why try? I'll go domestic and invite you to Sunday dinner. How does that sound?"

When she didn't respond, he pushed back with hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I really was about to call you to ask you to dinner. It does mean an evening with my uncle and aunt. And you know my uncle. It might be a little weird, but if . . ."

Her eyes were dull. She looked tired. It dawned on him her unexpected appearance was because something had happened. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She moved away, tossed her purse on the couch, and sat beside it. Her lips parted then closed. She put fingers to her forehead and stared at the floor. "I was busy with Darla today. And then . . ." She closed her eyes for a second. "I thought you didn't call because you were working."

He stepped closer. She was upset about something, and it wasn't because she hadn't heard from him. "I took some time off."

She glanced his way. "There's a lot of that going around."

A joke. That was better. But still, her voice was flat.

Her gaze went back to the floor. "What to do to top last night?" She nodded. "Domestic, like you said. That's one way to go. Your uncle. He's a real charmer, especially when he suspects you of murder." Her eyes moved back and forth on the carpet.

"Another way to go." She swallowed. "You could cancel Sunday dinner and we could play Harbor-the-Fugitive. I would be the fugitive, of course. You would be the harborer. Would that get you fired?" She looked at him with a stiff upper lip.

"What are you talking about?" He sat next to her.

"I'm not really a fugitive." She averted her eyes.

"Good. Look at me." He turned her toward him. "What's going on?"

She paused. "There's been another murder." She waited for him to say something but it was his turn to be silent. Silent because he was stunned. He watched her draw a breath. "And I did withhold information from Uncle D." Another pause. "And . . . and on the ride over here I realized I'm scared." She stuck the tip of her thumb in her mouth and bit down.

He'd never seen her like this. The night of her father's murder she'd been upset. But scared? Well, naturally she had been to some degree. But she'd covered it with bravado. "Tell me what happened."

"Let's go back to the Ferris wheel where you can't run away."

"I'm not going anywhere."

She searched his face. "Okay. Here goes. I think I found my mother. Or rather, Maggot did. I want it made very clear, I didn't actually lie. I don't have Maggot's file. He gave me a couple of pictures and an address. That's all. He wouldn't tell me anything else. I think he was going to make Edward pay for whatever else he knew."

She pulled her hair back in a nervous gesture and took another deep breath.

"So I went to find the woman in the pictures. This Tiffany Cla.s.s. Yes, that's her name. Pseudo name. The name she goes by. Anyway, that's where I went when I was on the back of Jake's motorcycle. You know. When you followed me."

He nodded, happy to have an explanation for why she'd gone to the Hotel Pamela. Although, it wasn't good that she'd kept information from Uncle Carrick. He'd be annoyed about it, as well he should be. And probably suspicious. It made Lacey look untrustworthy, no matter what her motivation.

He frowned. If Lacey was going to be someone significant in his life, he wanted his uncle to not only like her, but respect her. Her omission was a problem in more ways than one.

"I'm pretty sure Tiffany's my mom."

"Pretty sure?"

"Yeah. I mean, even the name is a giveaway of sorts. My mom's name is Crystal and she's going by Tiffany Cla.s.s. Tiffany gla.s.s. Get it?"

He got it. "Sounds like she has a sense of humor. Maybe that's where you get yours."

Lacey shrugged in a hostile sort of way. "I wouldn't know."

Dan made a mental note. He knew the disappearance of Lacey's mother was an issue for her, but apparently it was more deep-rooted than he'd thought.

"Back to the subject. I never got to talk to Tiffany. She wasn't home. This other woman was. This Honey. I left word with her to have Tiffany call but she never did. And when I went back today, the front desk man said homicide detectives were up in their room."

"Homicide. Who's dead?"

"I don't know. I didn't talk to the cops." She wrung her hands. "They called me because last night I left a message on Tiffany and Honey's phone. But I didn't pick up. Here."

She took out her cell and played a message using the speaker. A detective identified himself and asked for Lacey to call back without explaining why.

Immediately Dan grabbed his phone and called his uncle. "It appears there's been another murder related . . . possibly related to Harper Bouquet's. Do you know a Detective Householder? He's working it."

Forty-five minutes later Uncle Carrick arrived at Dan's front door. Lacey was glad he'd come, but nervous. If she'd been upfront with him, there might not have been another murder.

"The murdered woman's name is Tiffany Cla.s.s," Uncle D explained. He stood before Dan and Lacey who were seated on the couch like huddled school children facing a no-nonsense teacher.

Lacey felt her lip tremble and her eyes begin to water. She wiped her cheeks and tried to put on a stoic face.

"If she really is your mother, I'm sorry," the detective added, the human in him making an appearance.

Dan took Lacey's right hand and squeezed it as she dabbed at her eyes with the left one. "What happened to her?" She bit the inside of her cheek to help corral the tears that threatened to break free.

Uncle D's manner was direct. "She was found in an alley. Three stab wounds under the rib cage."

Lacey closed her eyes. "Tiffany Cla.s.s lived in a pit and died in an alley? Our mother ran away from us for a life like that? Now I'll never know why." She inhaled deeply then exhaled through her mouth. Be mad. Go ahead. Mad's better than sad. The woman deserted you. You didn't know her. But still . . . She felt Dan squeeze her hand again and looked at him.