Body Wave Page 12

“Sorry,” Christine said, rising. “Regarding Kimberly, there are some secrets we can’t reveal. She kept our confidences, so the least we can do is to return the favor.”

  At her gesture, Rocco shoved to his feet. They left the cafeteria arm in arm, smug smiles on their faces.

  Marla had just thrown out her trash and turned toward the exit when a hand clamped on her shoulder.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” said an Asian student balancing a stack of books. “I liked Kim, so I have some information that may help. Kim said something to me after she’d been to Rocco’s apartment: I could get him kicked out of school. But she’d promised to keep quiet, because the reverse was also true. They were protecting each other. I was afraid for her, because Rocco acts weird sometimes. He’s not someone I would trust.”

  Marla thanked the student and left. She didn’t have time to mull over these conversations until later. Finishing work at the salon, dashing home to start meal preparations, taking out the dog, and returning phone calls kept her occupied until Dalton and Brianna showed up for dinner.

  “Hi, Brie,” she said, hugging the girl, who wore jeans and a Banana Republic sweater along with a sullen expression on her face. Long braids trailed down her back, making Brianna appear younger than her twelve years.

  Dalton grinned his greeting, handing her a bottle of chilled Chardonnay. His clothing bore a preppie look. He wore a blue cotton pinpoint oxford shirt, Norwegian crewneck sweater in charcoal to match his hair, and black wool gabardine trousers. When he brushed past her, she got a whiff of spice cologne that set her pulse thrumming.

  She engaged her guests in small talk during the Caesar salad course. Spooks ranged at their feet, hoping for fallen morsels. When she got up to retrieve the entrée, she threw him a treat. He grasped it in his teeth and raced into the living room.

  She cleared the salad plates and brought the lasagna dish to the dining table along with piping hot garlic bread. While they ate, Marla broached the subject that bothered her.

  “What do you think Rocco and Christine were hiding?” she asked, after relating the gist of their conversation. “Whatever it is can get them kicked out of school. They knew something about Kimberly that might have gotten her in trouble, too.”

  “When you saw Stan, did he mention anything about Gary Waterford?” Dalton said between bites. His casual tone belied the keen interest in his eyes.

  “No, why? Do you think he knew Gary and Kim were seeing each other?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Could this be the secret Christine implied Kim was keeping?”

  “Kim’s personal love life wouldn’t get her thrown out of school. If Stan learned she wasn’t spending time at the athletic club, however, he might have interfered.”

  “How? By notifying the school she didn’t have his approval to attend? So what?”

  “Where did she get the money for tuition?” Brianna cut in.

  “Good question.” Dalton beamed proudly at his daughter.

  Marla studied the girl thoughtfully. “Perhaps that’s how Stan would have ended her ambitions. If he knew where she got the resources…” She let her voice trail off, wondering how Kimberly had paid for her college costs. If Miriam wasn’t giving her an allowance, then her only source of income was Stan. Unless someone else was helping Kim, willingly or not. Could she have resorted to blackmail?

  “Marla, you said you’d plan my birthday party,” Brianna said, wiping a dribble of tomato sauce from her mouth. “Are you sure you have time? I mean, between work and all, you’re so busy. It’s enough that you still drive me to dance class when Daddy works late.”

  Marla smiled gently. “It’s something I want to do, honey. I don’t have much experience with this sort of thing, though. The places I checked are way too much money.” She rattled off the names of the caterers.

  “This is a thirteenth birthday party, not a Bar Mitzvah,” Dalton reminded her, chewing a piece of garlic toast. His bemused glance created havoc with her hormones.

  “Bat Mitzvah,” she corrected. “I don’t know who else to call.”

  “Heck, Marla, you’re not trying very hard.” Brianna rolled her eyes as though her patience was being sorely tested. “Look for another type of place to host a party.”

  “I thought you wanted a big splash. You’ve been going to a lot of fancy events lately.”

  “My friends’ parents can spend their money on expensive parties. I don’t have to compete.”

  “Well, I’m glad you feel that way. In that case, I’ll work on it this weekend.”

  The deeper she got involved with Dalton, the more obligations she took on with his daughter. Marla had enough responsibilities already, but she felt bad for the girl, whose mother had passed away. Brianna needed a guiding female hand, not that Marla was applying for the role. It seemed to drift in her direction, though, and she’d never been able to say no to someone in need.

  She switched to a more comfortable topic. “Did you look up that phone number I gave you for Jeremiah Dooley?” she asked Dalton, after refilling his wineglass.

  He nodded, his smoky gaze searing through her defenses. When he looked at her that way, it was difficult to deny him anything. “It connects to the Ministry of Hope in Tarpon Springs. A recorded message mentions the man’s Sunday morning television show. He’s some kind of televangelist.”

  “How do you suppose Kim met him?” A bite of lasagna slid down her throat, its tangy tomato flavor lingering on her tongue.

  “Beats me. I need to talk to this fellow, so I hope he calls back when he gets my voice mail. Otherwise, I thought I’d take a drive up on Monday. Want to come?”

  “That’s a long ride for one day. Isn’t it five hours each way?”

  “She’s right, Daddy,” Brianna said, innocent brown eyes regarding him. “Marla has enough to do. You should go by yourself, or else let me skip school, and I’ll go with you.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t think so, muffin.”

  “I’d be happy to come along,” Marla quickly inserted. “Will Carmen stay with Brianna after school until we get home?”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” the girl stated.

  “I’ll ask the housekeeper,” Dalton said to her. “I won’t leave you alone for that long. We’d be getting back very late.”

  Brianna gave her father a resentful glare. “You didn’t tell her about the murder weapon. How come you can tell me these things, but you won’t let me come along?”

  Marla put down her fork. “What’s this?”

  Dalton used a napkin to wipe his mouth, but it didn’t erase the grimace of annoyance on his face. “I was going to mention it.”

  “Oh, yeah? When? Spill it, Detective.”

  “We found a dagger, or actually a letter opener, buried in Kaufman’s backyard. Tests have proved conclusively that it was the murder weapon. Stan’s name is etched on the blade.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Finding the murder weapon in Stan’s yard doesn’t mean anything,” Marla said, stiffening. “The killer must have dropped it there.”

  “Uh-huh.” Dalton, finished with his meal, pushed his empty plate to the side.

  She glanced at his implacable expression. “If Stan murdered his wife, do you think he’d leave the knife in such an obvious place?”

  “The front door was unlocked. Maybe he killed her, opened the door, ran outside and around to the back of his house. He wasn’t thinking straight, just wanted to get rid of the letter opener with its damning inscription.”

  “Oh, and then he returned inside the house to call the police? Stan wouldn’t be so stupid. Did you tell him you’d found the weapon?”

  “Not yet, and you won’t tell him either.”

  They glared at each other, while Marla’s heart pounded in her chest until another thought surfaced. “Christine mentioned Leah’s name during our conversation. She said Kim might have worked out an arrangement with Leah. What do you suppose this meant?”
/>   “Are you implicating Leah?”

  “I’m not implicating anyone! Unlike you, I have an open mind. I don’t believe Stan killed his wife.”

  “You’re biased in his favor.”

  “And you’re jealous.” Marla shoved to her feet. Ignoring the smirk on Brianna’s face, she collected their dishes.

  In the kitchen, she rinsed the plates. Footfalls sounded behind her, and she felt Dalton’s hands on her waist. Her breath hitched as his body heat radiated toward her.

  “Sorry,” he said in a soft, low voice that aroused her senses.

  Clutching a dish in her hand, she resisted the urge to turn into his embrace. They still had too many barriers between them despite their shared confidences.

  “You know I don’t want you to get hurt,” he murmured, his hot breath near her ear. The scent of wine mingled with his masculine essence to batter down her resolve.

  “Dalton, do you really believe Stan is guilty?” She placed the plate into a dish drainer and then wiped her hands on a towel. Slowly, she turned to face him. His arms encircled her, drawing her close. Through her cranberry sweater and short black skirt, she felt every point of contact between them.

  “He’s the most logical suspect, but I’m looking into all possibilities. Circumstantial evidence isn’t enough; it has to be conclusive.”

  “I know you want Stan to be the culprit.”

  “Only so he’ll stop bothering you.” His intense gaze stole her breath. “You’ve had a lot of grief from him in the past. It’s time to turn the page on that chapter in your life.”

  “Same as for you and Brianna? You have your own sorrows that need healing.”

  “We can help each other.” He lowered his head until his lips hovered above hers. A few inches more and their mouths would meet.

  “Hey, isn’t it time for dessert?” Brianna demanded, trouncing into the room.

  Marla jerked back, but Dalton didn’t let go of her. His eyes flamed with desire. “Brianna, you’re going to have to get used to this,” he said. “Marla and I like each other.”

  “So I see,” Brianna said, her voice full of disgust.

  Marla disentangled herself, turning to the pre-teen. “I care about your father, honey, and about you, too. I’m not trying to steal your father’s attention, or... subvert your mother’s memory. I’d like to be part of your lives... I think.”

  “Well, you’re not very helpful about my birthday,” Brianna replied, but some of the sullenness left her expression.

  Marla blinked. Was that a hint of grudging respect she detected? “I promise I’ll work on it this weekend.”

  “We’ll have more opportunities to discuss things on Monday,” Dalton added, his suggestive gaze making her wonder what other activities he had in mind.

  I don’t know how much talking we’ll do, Marla thought to herself. A whole day together without distractions. Just thinking about it made a delicious shiver run up her spine. Still, they had a long drive ahead to Tarpon Springs. Not much you can do with a console between your car seats.

  “I made a lemon meringue pie for dessert,” she announced. “Oh, wait till you hear what my mother said about Roger. He’s Ma’s new boyfriend,” she explained to Brianna.

  Once they’d settled in the dining room again, she told him about her earlier conversation. “Roger bought tickets to the Miami City Ballet so he can escort Ma to the next performance. By coincidence, he also likes to play bridge and eats Thai food. Don’t you think it’s strange how they have so many interests in common?” she asked Dalton.

  “Why do you consider it strange?” queried Brianna, giving her a frank stare. “Just because you and Daddy have nothing you do together?”

  “We talk about murder suspects.” Dalton winked at Marla.

  “You know what I mean.” Brianna played with her fork, pushing pieces of pie around on her plate. “We used to take walks in the park with Mom, and we’d have contests on who could identify the most plants. And how about action films? Have you ever taken Marla to see one? You and Mom studied the movie listings together.”

  “I didn’t know you liked those things,” Marla said quietly, feeling like an intruder.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he replied, his eyes sparking with an unmistakable invitation.

  “I’m concerned about how quickly Roger waltzed into my mother’s life and how he likes the same things she does. Ma is falling for him like a schoolgirl. What if he’s a con man who preys on widows?”

  “You’re probably reading too much into things,” said Dalton. “Why don’t you invite them both over one evening so you can get to know the guy better?”

  “I don’t have any free time.” And if I did, I’d rather spend it with you.

  ****

  She contemplated her schedule Sunday morning on her way to the Pearl residence. Saturday she’d been too busy with work to spare any thoughts beyond her salon. Today would be taken up with Miriam all day, and tomorrow she and Vail had their excursion. Marla needed to divide herself into three people: one to manage the salon and work with clients; one to chase after suspects; and one to relax and enjoy life. This last goal seemed to be the most elusive, and if she got more involved with Dalton and his daughter, she could kiss freedom out the door.

  What was it she’d said to them? I’d like to be part of your lives. Her face blanched as she recalled her exact words.

  Don’t think about that now. You have important things to do today.

  Marla arrived at the mansion early enough to catch Agnes before she left. “We have to talk,” she told the nurse in the downstairs hallway where Agnes donned a sweater prior to leaving.

  Agnes, her hair pulled into a tight bun, scowled at her. “You’ve given Miriam ideas that aren’t good for her. Going outside in the cold weather, joining the family for dinner. She gets worn out from these efforts, and then I have to work doubly hard to keep her well. I’ve recommended to Madam and her son to dismiss you.”

  “You treat Miriam like an invalid, so it’s no wonder she tires easily,” Marla retorted. “With you as caretaker, she’s cooped up in her room all day. If anything isn’t healthy, it’s confining her to the house and limiting her social contacts.”

  “Who are you to talk about health, missy? I’d like to see your credentials.”

  “Morris accepted my references. I don’t have to show you anything.” Her heart racing from the confrontation, Marla straightened her white tunic top.

  “If Miriam hadn’t taken a liking to you, you’d be gone by now.”

  “But I’m not, am I? She enjoys my company, which is probably more than she can say for yours.”

  Agnes’s expression, which already looked as though she’d swallowed a prune pit, tautened. “If I didn’t have to leave…”

  “What is this pressing personal business, Agnes? How come you haven’t needed to take Sundays off on a regular basis before? Why now?”

  “I always had a day off each week.”

  “But not so urgently, from what Miriam told me. Do you have a sick relative who needs care? Or are you meeting someone of whom Miriam would disapprove?”

  A flash of anxiety clouded Agnes’s blue eyes. “I don’t believe it’s your concern. See that you take good care of Miriam today. I don’t want any harm to come to her under your ministrations.”

  The nurse’s words set off alarm bells, and Marla hastened upstairs, but her client slept peacefully in bed. Time to get her up and out.

  “Why do you put up with Agnes?” Marla said, rousing the matriarch, who snuggled under the covers.

  Miriam groaned in protest, but she allowed Marla to plump her pillows. “She takes good care of me, but Agnes doesn’t think you do the same. She wants me to get rid of you.”

  “So she told me. Where does she go on her days off?”

  “Agnes keeps a small apartment at Hollywood Beach. I believe she checks on things there and visits her sister in an assisted living place. The sister needed eye surger
y and isn’t doing so well.” She pointed a regal finger toward the bathroom. “Call Kathleen for my breakfast and then get my pills. What’s in that suitcase you’re holding? Are you moving in, dearie?”

  Marla laughed. “I’ve brought a few beauty supplies. We’ll use them after you’re fed and bathed.”

  Shoving herself into a sitting position, Miriam grimaced. “Oh, my bones ache. I should stay in bed today.”

  “Nonsense, it’s too nice outside.” Marla scuttled into the lavatory to retrieve the medicine bottles.

  “Morning, ma’am,” Kathleen greeted Marla ten minutes later. She swept in carrying a breakfast tray that she set on the portable bedside table. “I made Madam’s gruel just the way she likes it.”

  Marla glanced at the bowl. “Yuck, what is that glop? Where are the eggs and toast? This is food for a baby.”

  “Agnes says I have to eat Cream of Rice since my stomach was upset after dinner Thursday night,” Miriam interjected, although she didn’t appear too enthused.

  Marla compressed her lips, unwilling to go against too many of Agnes’s dictates. Maybe the old lady had suffered a bout of diarrhea as a result of changing her diet. She didn’t want to clean up after her if that were the case.

  Kathleen smiled sympathetically at Marla. “I’ll see that Cook offers something more substantial for lunch. If you don’t need me until later, I’m going to church this morning. The minister promised us a fiery sermon, bless him.”

  Marla admired the middle-aged woman’s auburn hair. Those silver streaks added dimension, and so did the pleasant lilt to her voice. “Are either of you familiar with the Ministry of Hope or its leader, Jeremiah Dooley?” she asked.

  Miriam, who’d lifted a spoonful of cereal, froze for the pace of two heartbeats and then resumed her motion. Kathleen uttered a choking cough.

  “Never heard of them,” the maid said, her face flushed. Her skirt swished as she turned and left.

  “Marla, I need my teeth,” commanded Miriam, effectively dismissing the subject.

  Marla wasn’t about to be swayed from her course. After bringing the older woman her teeth, she switched on the television and clicked through the channels until she found Jeremiah Dooley’s show. The distinguished-looking, gray-haired man exuded charisma like a messiah as he exhorted his audience to listen to the Lord.