“She is also the girlfriend of a man who has no particular relationship to Maylords, but who bears an amazing superficial likeness to the dead designer. Do you know a Matt Devine?”
Did she? Temple wondered. “He’s a neighbor.”
Su was surprised enough to dart Alch an inquiring glance. He retained his affable poker face, letting Su lead.
“And,” Temple added, “a friend of Lieutenant Molina, as well.” “Molina!” Su reared back as if snakebitten. “He’s a friend of hers?”
Alch smiled into his mustache.
Temple was beginning to really like him.
He finally bestirred himself. “We ran into Mr. Devine during that nutsy Star Trek investigation. I’m surprised, Su, that a savvy young up-and-comer like you forgot a babe like him. Molina certainly didn’t. And you, Miss Ban. You saw both men, Foster and Devine. You knew Devine. Could one have really been mistaken for the other?”
A key question. Temple gave it the long consideration it deserved.
“I’d say no, except that their coloring and height was similar, and their clothing shades matched that night. Simon was far more fashion-forward, though.”
“But from behind-?” Su prompted, on the edge of her seat. “In a dim room setting,” Temple conceded. “Yeah. It could happen.”
“So who,” Alch asked, “would want to kill this friend of Molina’s who was here with Janice Flanders?” He chuckled. “This
Devine’s a pretty good-looking guy. Maybe Molina herself?”
“God, no!” Alch had shocked Temple into a revealing outburst, but it was too late to backtrack. “I said Matt was a `friend’ of Janice’s. I meant ‘friend.’ Maybe that’s too strong. Acquaintance might be better.”
“You don’t invite a mere acquaintance of the opposite sex to a Hallmark moment like the opening ceremony of your new employer.”
“Janice is a single mother,” Temple told Su. “There are a lot of occasions when a single woman wants a male escort at a
social event, just so she doesn’t look like a loner. Or a loser. No one takes that kind of setup too seriously.”
Alch wasn’t convinced. “Maybe someone did this time, only they axed the wrong guy.”
“But Beth Blanchard knew Simon and had seen Matt. Why would she mix them up?”
“Maybe she decided this was the perfect time. Maybe she was hoping we’d wonder who the real target was.”
Temple mulled over Alch’s theory. The woman had indeed acted like she had a major burr under her instep that evening.
“Maybe you have a point,” Su told Temple. “Maybe someone didn’t like Devine’s escort duty.” Before Temple could say that was highly unlikely, Su found her own unwelcome link. “You, maybe,” she added.
“Me?”
“Your fingerprints are all over this environment and the people in it. I hear you were the one who rushed right over to the
Oasis to tell Danny Dove about Simon’s death.”
“We’re friends.”
“You’re friends with an awful lot of suspects in this case.”
“Danny? A suspect? You must be crazy.”
“Murder is an intimate act, Ms. Barr,” Su said. “We look first at close associates. Spouses, lovers.”
“I know, but you’re wrong! It’s something here at Maylords. The bad vibes in this place would have knifed Caesar, trust me.”
“Do you know a Rafi Nadir?”
“Uh, casually.”
Su snorted, as if her point about Temple was made.
Alch leaned forward, elbows on knees. (No wonder his polyester-blend suits were baggy in both locations, like his face, well worn and trustworthy.)
“This case is a mess, I agree. We got a gangland-style hit … on a bunch of display windows. We got a gay man and a straight woman knifed to death. We got friends of friends hanging around this place. Then there’s one Big Mama of a media maven tossing orange peels right and left, into a murder vehicle. I tell you, it gives me nightmares.”
Not you, Columbo Jr., Temple thought admiringly. Su was the rat terrier, but Alch was the bloodhound on this team.
“So,” he said, hunching farther forward. “I hear you have something of a reputation for creative crime solving. Who do you
think did it?”
Temple took a deep breath.
“Nobody I know,” she said.
Su glared at her. Alch stared at his wing-tip shoes. She stared back. It was what she had heard called a Mexican standoff.
To PR or not to PR.
That was the question the LV Metropolitan Police Department CAPERS unit (Crimes Against PERSons) had to decide.
Was she going to be considered a suspicious person and put on ice one way or another, or were they going to let her do her job?
Which Matt said was too enabling. What did a radio shrink know anyway? Maybe her.
“As long as we can isolate the crime scene,” Alch said, “I vote we let Ms. Barr go to the atrium and do her ringleader bit.”
Su frowned. Her eyebrows had been plucked into Chinese brush strokes, an amazing configuration of thick and thin, reminiscent of the handle of the letter opener/dagger that had done in Beth Blanchard.
Temple always admired creative cosmetics, but didn’t dare tell the intimidating Su.
Su considered. She silently consulted Alch. He beamed encouragement. Even Temple felt the glow. She liked the guy. He reminded her of her father when her mother wasn’t talking him into being anxious about his only daughter.
Alch winked at her, so swiftly that Su never noticed.
“All right,” Su said, none too happily. “But if Molina’s not happy with this, it’s your scalp.”
Alch shrugged. “There’s so little left to scalp.”
Temple winked back at him. He had nothing to worry about but self-deprecation.
So she was set free.
Temple headed for the atrium and the forthcoming media ceremonials. She’d persuaded Kenny Maylord that good PR required coughing up a public donation to the local arts council, since the MADD money donated on TV had originally been earmarked for them.
S h e w o u l d h a v e Ainsworth, t o tmake o sure n eKenny dMaylord o wdid nall the ttalking h eto the
press. He always acted like he was on valium, which is what this situation needed. Getting most of the media attention focused on Amelia Wong would bring out her telegenic charmand have Maylord beaming like a winning team owner at the Superbowl. Dogs. She would mention the dogs. Maybe send for them. Media types were dog people, usually. All those hairy, bow-topped little heads would save the day. Maybe some of the Maylords staff could fetch them … no, get Amelia’s personal staff out of here on dog duty. The way they swarmed around her made her look too pampered and powerful. Yeah, that would work… .
Temple had lots to think about in a short time. And that was good.
That meant that she would not think about Beth Blanchard twisting slowly in the air conditioning. She would not think about wishing Beth Blanchard off the planet. Or about who else might have done so, including Janice Flanders, or Matt Devine on Janice Flander’s behalf. Or Jerome Johnson. Or even … Danny Dove, who must have known Blanchard had harassed his lost better half.
For once, the only suspect du jour not on the menu in this case was Max.
Or … could Molina somehow drag him into it? It wouldn’t do to underestimate the homicide lieutenant’s obsession with blaming something on Max.
Or … had he been playing Mr. No-can-see in order to keep a surreptitious eye on her at Maylords? Max had a guardian angel complex. Still, she was sure he’d been up to something she didn’t know about. That meant it was dangerous, but Maylords didn’t seem to be dangerous to anyone other than its own.
Temple was suddenly glad Max had made himself scarce lately, for whatever reason. She just hoped the reason provided
an alibi.
Chapter 41
Imagine Meeting You
H e r e I I …
A glare of TV lights surrounded the scene in the atrium half an hour later.