Bouquet of Lies Part 15

"Of course I believe you. But she's gone and you're safe now." He opened the door for her and she climbed in. "You're with me."

On the drive home, Darla wiped one last tear and then wrapped her arms around herself. "Don't tell anyone, okay? Grandfather will commit me again."

Randy smiled. "Then he'll have to commit me too. We'll go together. It'll be fun."

"It's not fun."

His smile faded. "I know. Look. I don't want you to worry. Nothing's going to happen to you. I won't allow it." He shot her a comforting glance. "Okay?"

Her panic subsided. "Okay."

"And now you can do something for me. Don't tell anyone my dirty little secret."

"What secret?"

"That I smoke." His smile was playful.

She smiled back as best she could. She wouldn't tell.

Sixteen.

LACEY STOOD AT her bedroom window and stared out at a drifting cloud. She thought about how her life had changed. Any other weekend prior to Daddy's murder she would have gone out on Sat.u.r.day night and slept through Sunday morning. But not this weekend. She spent the time at home keeping to herself, doing nothing, if you called crying nothing.

She felt better now. Stronger for having allowed herself to grieve. With her father's death, everything was different. But life went on and she would cope. She had to.

A gray BMW caught her eye and she watched it roll up the drive to the mansion and park. A man in a well-tailored suit hopped out just as Edward rushed from the house and hobbled hurriedly down the steps. He shook his cane, clearly disturbed.

She cracked the window and angry words from Edward's mouth lofted skyward and into her room. "One-hundred thousand dollars. I won't pay it! Why should I care if you go to the police?"

She couldn't hear the man's reply. Evidently he wasn't too excited.

"I haven't got that kind of money and I won't be blackmailed." Edward shook his cane with added vigor, but the man didn't back away.

Lacey raced from the room and took the stairs as fast as she could. The conversation was too good to miss. She pressed her ear to the front door and heard the man say, "Oh, but I did. I know exactly where she is . . ."

The sound of a second car either drowned the words or stopped the man from finis.h.i.+ng. Lacey threw the door open and saw Randy and Darla stepping out of Randy's Lexus.

Edward continued to fume. "My son hired you to do a job. What kind of . . . of . . ."

"The kind who knows opportunity when he smells it and this reeks to high heaven." The man was probably thirty-five. He wore a white dress s.h.i.+rt, unb.u.t.toned low enough to reveal plenty of dark chest hair. He smiled when he noticed Lacey, with a smirk that said he was full of himself. He tipped his head.

Frustrated, Edward swung his cane up and twisted toward Darla and Randy, and then toward Lacey. "Get out of here. All of you. Go in the house. This is none of your business."

Lacey stepped forward. "My house, my business."

The man chuckled and walked to the driver's side of his car. "Come to my office around four tomorrow afternoon. That should be enough time for you to get what I asked for."

"And you'll . . ." Edward eyed his audience and his voice lowered, although Lacey could still hear. "You'll . . ."

"Everything I got. I'll print it all out for you." The man winked at Lacey and climbed into his car. It roared to life and rolled down the driveway. The license plate was interesting. It read "Stark PI."

Edward snarled on his way into the house and Lacey turned her attention to Darla and Randy. Randy was looking after the BMW. Only when it was gone from sight did he turn to Darla. With the gentlest of expressions, he took hold of her wrists-those scarred wrists Darla always hid when she went outside. They weren't hidden now. Jake was right. Randy had broken through Darla's defenses.

"I'll pick you up at seven." Randy kissed her cheek.

Darla bit her lip, smiling, and looked at the ground.

"Don't forget she's seventeen," Lacey called, suddenly feeling parental.

They both looked at her.

"I'm just saying." She went in the house.

A few seconds later Darla entered the foyer. "Jealous?" she said to Lacey with a slight smirk on her lips.

"Oh, ever so."

"I mean, since he broke up with you and all."

"Is that what he said?" Lacey shrugged. "Oh, the das.h.i.+ng Mr. Barber."

"I think I'm in love."

"Love?" Lacey sighed. "Then all I can say is, girl. Da. Da. Da. You'll be a woman soon."

Darla turned crimson. "He took me to the cemetery."

"That's romantic."

"Don't make fun."

"And give up my M.O.?"

Darla's face twitched. "You aren't mad at me, are you?"

It was a glimmer of the old Darla. The fragile Darla. The Darla that worried about everything. Lacey sighed again. "Of course not. I think it's wonderful you've found someone. You just seem so young." She took a lock of Darla's hair and placed it lovingly in front of Darla's shoulder. "I don't like the headband."

"You were a lot younger when you started seeing boys."

"Randy's not a boy. And you're not me."

They stared at each other until Lacey's rocking cell phone broke the moment. The ID read Ticket Master. Dan-the-Man. She grinned and quickly answered, walking away. Darla made her way up the stairs.

"If it isn't the long-lost Ticket Master. Where you been?"

"Working mostly."

"And not calling. Didn't see you at the memorial."

"I know. I'm sorry. I had to work."

"Your uncle was there. Looking for suspects?"

"I don't know about his cases. Not-"

"Not ethical," Lacey chimed in. "So you can't tell me how things are going."

"No. Although, from my own perspective, there were an awful lot of people in the house, in costume. Makes it tough unless they found some direct physical evidence."

Lacey looked at the closed library door. Murdered. In his own house. Had they found anything useful? For a second she wondered if Dan knew more than he was saying, then quickly nixed the idea. Dan was a straight arrow stick-in-the-mud. She doubted if he knew how to lie.

She missed him.

"Lacey? Are you still there?"

"I'm still here."

The yellow crime tape was gone. Guess that meant the cops had finished with the library. She could have the room cleaned now. She could wipe away all evidence of what had happened and the library would go back to looking innocuous.

"When will I see you?" she asked.

"I don't think it's a good idea. Not with my uncle on the case."

"Is that why you wanted him to handle it?"

"What? No. Of course not."

"Then I don't get it. You just said you don't know anything."

"I called to see how you're doing."

Yes. You called. And is that ethical? She was suddenly angry that he thought the right thing to do was stay away. He'd acted like a friend. He'd called his uncle to make sure he got the case. He'd comforted her the night her father was murdered.

Her eyes moistened. She remembered the feel of his arms around her. Strong. Comforting. And then his kiss. She could taste it now. She needed his lips on hers again. She needed him.

But he wasn't coming. She closed her eyes. "Right. How am I doing?" She swallowed back the tears. Maybe he couldn't lie, but she could. "Fine. I'm doing just fine. You don't need to call again."

She hung up on him.

Seated in the fast food joint, a half-eaten hamburger before him, Dan looked at the phone in his hand and winced. If he was doing the right thing not to see Lacey, why did it feel all wrong?

He put the phone on the table and sat in silence. How long could he keep kidding himself? Maybe he shouldn't have kissed Lacey that night and maybe she wasn't his type.

But he had kissed her and maybe his type had changed. He liked her. Everybody was telling him it was time to move on. It was time to listen. He'd been acting like a fool.

He balled up his napkin and tossed it down beside the half-eaten hamburger. He reached for the phone and paused.

He'd ticked Lacey off. He couldn't vacillate again if he called. That was jerking her around. He had to be sure.

He was sure. He wanted to see her. He wouldn't desert her again. He punched the number and listened to the ring. Waiting was like torture. When she didn't answer he almost hung up.

No, he decided. You want to make amends. Leave a message.

"It's me. Um. I need to talk to you. Call me."

Lacey stood in the foyer listening to Dan's message. Call him? So he could explain why it really wasn't a good idea to see each other. She had that memo memorized. She didn't need all the brutal details. She erased the message.

The library loomed before her. It was a room she'd mostly ignored all her life. Now it held great meaning. Hesitating only a second, she moved through the door and snapped on the light.

Everything looked normal. The cops had done their thing without tearing the place apart. A couch blocked the view where her father was found. Another couch sat to the side.

She moved closer and now she could see. The rug was a b.l.o.o.d.y mess, the gore left for the family to clean up.

"Daddy," she murmured and stepped farther inside.

Dried reddish splatter told the tale of her father's bludgeoning. Footprints tattled on those who had walked through his blood, the party guests who rushed in before Dan took charge. The police had gathered their shoes for comparison. If any of the b.l.o.o.d.y prints didn't match the shoes, presumably those would be the killer's prints. But what if one of her guests had done the deed?

She held herself. She would never see her father again. They could never mend their relations.h.i.+p.

She heard Henderson's words: Your father had faith in you. If only he'd told her.

She closed the door behind her and headed for her room, pa.s.sing a grumbling Edward on the stairs.

"It's blackmail. Pure and simple," he muttered. "Can't trust anybody these days."

Lacey paused. "Who was that man?"

Edward shot her a glare.

"What's he going to fill you in on?"

Edward kept walking.

"That argument you had with Daddy. You said you can't unring the bell and he said he'd hired Stark. That was Stark, wasn't it? I saw the license plate. Does he know something about Daddy's murder? Maybe the police should know about him."

"He's got nothing to do with anything!" Edward opened the front door.

"What's he got on you that he wants one-hundred thousand dollars? And you are apparently figuring out a way to pay it?"

Edward went out, slamming the door behind him.

The more Lacey thought about it, the more she thought she should call Uncle D.