Cuff Me(28)

Leaving Lenora with the spotlight all to herself.

It wasn’t exactly a unique story, but according to Lenora’s sister, Holly Adams had blamed Lenora for her fall from grace.

In addition, the two women had run into each other at a Broadway premiere just weeks before Lenora’s death, and the run-in had been icy.

Which was why Jill and Vincent were driving out to Connecticut to figure out if Holly’s anger had shifted from icy to white hot and murderous.

“I can’t believe we’re driving to the middle of nowhere on the ridiculous possibility that a seventy-two-year-old washed-up starlet made a three-hour trek into the city to push another starlet over a banister, then managed to get away without leaving a single clue,” Vincent grumbled.

Jill ignored his griping, all of her attention focused on the map on her phone. “Turn right here. Right! Here!”

He turned quickly with a curse.

“Oh wait,” she muttered when the phone gave her a rerouting message.

“Henley, I swear to God…”

“It’s not my fault,” she shot back. “I get almost no signal out here. The GPS keeps losing track of where we are.”

“It’s Connecticut, not Wyoming, how can it—”

“There,” she said, her arm whipping out, bumping against his chest. “There’s a sign for the Holly Haven. That’s it.”

Vincent pulled into the driveway and then slowed as they approached an enormous metal gate.

“I thought you said she was a washed-up actress,” he said as he rolled down the window to dial the call box. “She’s apparently loaded.”

“She’s had a couple of wealthy marriages,” Jill said, leaning forward to peer onto the property while Vincent announced them.

The gate opened and Vincent drove forward on what seemed to be a private country club. The grass was perfectly manicured. The trees lining the driveway were evenly spaced.

“How big is this property?” he asked. “I don’t even see a house—”

And then they saw it.

“That’s because it’s not a house,” Jill said, her voice just a little bit awed. “It’s like a French chateau.”

“Yeah? You’ve been to a lot of those?” he asked as they both climbed out of the car, staring up at the enormous structure.

She felt a little pang at his casual question. She hated reminders that she’d never left the country. Never left the continent.

Never had anyone to travel with.

She pushed the maudlin thought aside. She had Tom now. Maybe for their honeymoon…

Vincent glanced up at the sky. “Henley, you did check the weather report before we left?”

“Yeah, that’s the first thing I do when we go off to interview a murder suspect,” she said sarcastically. “Check the weather.”

Then she too looked up at the sky and understood immediately what he meant. She may have grown up in Florida, but she’d lived in New York long enough to know what snow looked like.

They exchanged a glance. “Let’s make this fast,” Vincent said.

An hour later, it was clear that Holly Adams had other ideas.

“You just can’t know how lonely it gets around here,” she said with a bright smile. “I love to entertain, so you can imagine how excited I was to hear I was having guests!”

Jill hid a smile.

She was pretty sure that this was the first time that homicide detectives at the NYPD had been described as guests.

And Jill was definitely certain that it was the first time they’d been treated to a three-course meal.

The food had been amazing, although not quite as amazing as watching Vincent carefully eat butternut squash bisque with an itty-bitty spoon.

“So, Ms. Adams,” he said as the housekeeper set chocolate mousse in front of them. “About Lenora Birch…”

Holly sighed from where she sat proudly at the head of the table. The woman had refused to discuss the death of a “dear friend” while eating, but Vincent was apparently out of patience. Jill was surprised he’d made it all the way to dessert.

“Ms. Adams, can you tell us about the last time you saw Lenora?” Jill asked, leaning forward.

“Please. Call me Holly.” She fiddled with her spoon.

Jill studied the older woman, trying to get a read on her and failing.

She was beautiful, even in her mid-seventies. She was short and curvy, and even with her advanced age, Jill could definitely see the outline of what must have been a rather phenomenal figure back in her day.

She and Lenora must have made quite a pair, one tall, thin, and regal, the other short, curvy, and coquettish.

“We used to be friends, you know,” Holly said on a sigh. “Best friends.”

Her voice was just slightly petulant, although Jill wasn’t sure if it was from old wounds or annoyance that she was being questioned in the death of a former friend.

But the former part was why they were here.

“What happened? To the friendship, I mean,” Jill asked.

Holly spooned up a tiny bit of chocolate mousse and slipped it between coral-colored lips. “Isn’t it obvious? She shoved me out of the way so that she’d be the only Hollywood darling. Took all the prime roles, stole all the men—”

“All the men?” Vincent asked.