Dead to Her(95)

“Elizabeth,” Julian said. “We’re still owed a lot of money from the fiasco of a party. The balance.”

“Although to be fair,” Pierre added, “the scandal has got everyone trying to book us. Who would have thought attempted murder would be so profitable?”

“Elizabeth seems to have set up camp at the hospital,” Marcie said. “Like a loyal dog dying with its master.” She smirked. Julian and Pierre—well, mainly Pierre—unleashed the bitch in her. “But I guess you may have to wait awhile until things have settled down. I have no idea who can access William’s money at the moment, if anyone can. Must be a bit of a mess.” I sure can’t access mine, she wanted to add. “Are you guys broke?”

“Oh, hell no.” Pierre looked aghast. “Don’t even say that word.”

“That’s not the point.” Julian drank half his martini in one swallow. “I didn’t want to do another of William’s parties in the first place. Not for a second wife, however nice she might be. He always made us feel second rate and like we owed him.”

Pierre leaned across the table. “In case you missed it, here’s the recap. Eleanor gave us some money when we were starting out because she loved Julian. He was her link to Lyle.”

“And William hated that,” Julian cut in. “But he could never say anything about it, because then he’d have to face the truth all over again.”

Marcie frowned, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“Lyle of course,” Pierre said. “He was gay. He was Julian’s first love. Why do you think he joined the army? To try to impress his daddy. To be a man in his eyes.”

“Eleanor didn’t want him to go. She knew he was only joining because William was so ashamed and disappointed in him and he wanted his father’s approval again.”

“And as if there are no gays in the army.” Pierre rolled his eyes. “I mean seriously. They all work out, and they all wear uniforms. The army is basically the goddamn Village People.”

Marcie sat, stunned.

“Eleanor didn’t care about his sexuality, she just wanted him to be happy. But William—as we all know—isn’t someone to be argued with.”

“So Lyle went off to the army to make his daddy proud, and then he died and the heartbreak very nearly killed Eleanor.”

“Just because William couldn’t stand the thought of a gay son.”

“Wow.” It was all Marcie could muster. So much family history she didn’t know from back when the ghosts were breathing.

“And you wondered why I have no real desire to organize parties for William Radford the Fourth,” Julian said.

Parties. This was her in.

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about organizing another one for him, do you?” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I left early. Thankfully for my freedom as it transpires.”

“You little two-name jailbird.”

“You’re so funny. But thank God for that headache. Although I almost came back when I saw Jacquie turning up as I left. I thought she might be making a play for Jason, now that she’s a widow. Stupid, I know. And actually, given everything that’s happened since, I should let her have him.”

“Straight men are such dogs,” Pierre said. “But you shouldn’t have worried about that. I saw them briefly talking but he didn’t look very pleased about it.”

“And I saw her later,” Julian said. “Mask off and face like thunder. She’d gone upstairs. Said the bathrooms were all in use downstairs, although I’m not sure they were. Plus, we’d arranged those rather gorgeous temporary restrooms outside that looked like safari yurts, across the garden from the catering truck.”

She’d gone upstairs. Had she been in Eleanor’s bedroom stealing a needle? Then done what needed to be done?

“Now, let’s get back to the important stuff,” Pierre said, ignoring the brunch menu but waving the waiter over for another round of martinis. “We need to know all about this first husband of yours and what happened there. You’re like a phoenix”—his grin was razor sharp as he waved his hands dramatically skyward—“risen from death in a trailer park to these dizzying heights.”

And it was a long way to fall back down again, Marcie thought, as she resigned herself to another hour or so of grilling. But at least she’d found out what she needed. And no more martinis if she was going to speak to Detective Anderson this afternoon.



“Can you get her to call me?” Marcie said into the hands-free as she put the car into drive. “Marcie Maddox. It’s urgent. I have some information on the attempted murder of William Radford.” Kate Anderson was out at the airport apparently but would be back in thirty minutes. Marcie hung up. Maybe that wasn’t so bad. It would give her time to get home and make coffee before presenting her case. Despite her resolve to not drink more, brunch had been entirely liquid, and the heavy storm clouds gathering overhead weren’t helping shake the two martinis away, but her adrenaline was firing her onward as she mentally listed all the evidence—circumstantial though much of it was—she had against Jacquie.

Jacquie had been ridiculously bitter all through the divorce. She didn’t like William and had visited Eleanor plenty when she was sick so could easily have known about the needles and syringes in her drawer. She’d wanted Jason back and he rejected her. A woman had emailed and asked for a copy of her old high school yearbook. That could have been her. If Jacquie had been following Marcie, she could easily have taken the photo that Keisha said William received the night of the party. But what for? Maybe to make him pissed and snappy at people. Cause him to argue with Jason and make him look guilty? She knew Emmett and Virginia and could have known about Jason’s heavy investments and guessed at money problems. Finally, Jacquie had been upstairs on the night of the party to go to the bathroom and could have taken the syringe then before poisoning the coconut waters.