Paranoid(34)

Rachel didn’t say anything.

“Right?” Lila prompted.

“I guess.”

“She was killed, Rach. Murdered. In her own home. Last night, or early this morning. I just thought . . . you know, we needed to make some kind of statement. We couldn’t ignore it. She graduated with us.”

“Sure.” That was so Lila. “It’s just . . .”

“. . . so weird, I know.” Another big gulp of wine.

“Rachel!” Brit scraped her chair back. She’d finally noticed that Rachel had arrived and was blinking back tears as she awkwardly made her way around the end of the table. “It’s horrible. Horrible.”

“Unbelievable,” Rachel said, and to her surprise Brit hugged her for a second, pulling her close despite her baby bump.

Brit dabbed at her eyes. “Sorry. I’m emotional. Pregnancy hormones, y’know.”

“We all feel it,” Rachel said, hiding her surprise at being hugged by a woman who usually could barely scratch up a smile for her.

Nate agreed. “It’s sick,” he said.

From the corner of her eye, Rachel noticed that Reva and Billy Dee had abandoned their spots at the table and were walking toward the group. Reva carried a glass of red wine, and Billy Dee came around the other side of the table.

Oh. Great. She knew she shouldn’t have come. Within half a minute everyone on the committee was clustered in the living room.

“I saw her at the dog groomer’s, the one with that stupid play on words—what’s it called? Oh, Doggie Bartique, the one on Third Street—just last week. My schnauzer needed his nails clipped,” Reva reported as she joined the others in front of the cold fireplace. “Anyway, she was there with her three dogs and we waited at the counter, making small talk, you know. I can’t believe it. Now she’s gone. I hadn’t seen her in years—I mean years—and there we were talking about the stupid dogs. It’s surreal, y’know. Why would anyone . . . ?” Her voice faded and for once Reva seemed at a loss for words. She was pretty and smart, a woman who’d always used her good looks and brains to her advantage. She’d been a cheerleader, of course, and in the choir and drama club. Their senior year raven-haired Reva had sung and danced to deliver a stand-out performance in Bye, Bye Birdie.

And, for a while back then, before Lila had turned his head, Luke had dated Reva. Exclusively. Reva had been head over heels for him.

Now an attorney, Reva was as slim as she had been in high school, but her features had sharpened with age. If she still harbored any bad feelings for Lila, she did a damned good job of hiding them. Then again, she’d been a pretty good actress twenty years ago.

“Maybe she wasn’t targeted.” Billy Dee rubbed the back of his neck, and despite the cool temperature, he was sweating, beads visible on his bald pate. “Could’ve been a random thing. Y’know, a burglary gone bad.”

“You think?” Nate asked, not hiding his skepticism.

“Who knows?” Billy Dee shrugged his shoulders. “These days that kind of shit happens.”

“Makes sense to me,” Reva agreed. “I’d actually rather believe that than think someone wanted to kill her specifically.”

“Now wait a second. Can we let this go for a few minutes and maybe, you know, talk about the reunion, the reason we’re here?” Lila asked. “This is too morbid. And we don’t know anything anyway.”

“It’s just hard to concentrate,” Brit said.

Billy Dee nodded. “Maybe I will have that drink now,” he said and made his way to the makeshift bar, his bald head gleaming under the lights. He’d been a runningback in high school before an injury had sidelined him, an injury that had shattered his ankle and put him in the hospital for a week, all compliments of Luke’s tackle in practice. The injury had knocked Billy Dee off the team for the season and, he’d complained later, cost him an athletic scholarship to the University of Colorado. Now he was a teacher at the high school and a football coach for the ever low-flying Eagles.

Despite Lila trying to put everyone on the committee back on track, the conversation about Violet continued as Bon Jovi played in the background.

There were more questions than answers as they tossed around theories and anecdotes, remembering things about Violet, remarking about when they’d seen her last, wondering how she’d died and why. Had her attacker known her? Was murder the intent? Or was Billy Dee right when he’d suggested the botched burglary? Had she been sexually assaulted? Could her husband be behind it?

“It’s all such a shame,” Brit said. “A horrible tragedy, and I kind of know Leonard. He comes into the shop before work for coffee and a scone or something. We don’t talk much, but I can’t imagine him killing Violet. No.” She shuddered visibly. “I heard he found the body. He was supposed to be on a fishing trip. Came home early.”

“Supposed to be?” Nate asked. “You mean he wasn’t?”

“Oh, no, no, no. I don’t know anything about it. Just what people say when they come in.” She let out a breath. “And that’s all just coffee shop talk.”

“Gossip,” Mercedes said from the couch as Lucas walked into the room.

He glanced at his mother, who gave a quick nod, and then he walked to the buffet and began filling a couple of plates.