A Grand Seduction Page 23

  “I can’t,” he said. “Not anymore. But I didn’t want to risk you being there. I wanted you out of the way.”

  Her eyes widened more with each word. “Why? Warren, who’s being arrested?”

  He took a deep breath. “Your friend. Dominique Trudeaux.”

  She mouth fell open, and the corners of her eyes began to sting. “You’re wrong. She didn’t kill anybody.”

  “I know this is hard for you, but you need to understand.”

  Her voice flew up an octave. “Understand what? That you lied to me? That you’ve been playing me to get to her? Sleeping with her best friend. Don’t you guys have any scruples?”

  He reached across the table for her hand, but she yanked it back. “Ridelle, please. It was nothing like that. I had no idea who you were.”

  “Oh, right. You just happened to meet me while looking to pin a murder on my friend. This isn’t a movie, you know. Coincidences like that don’t just happen.”

  “It did this time. We had no idea who we were looking for when I first went down there. How could I have known?”

  Ridelle crossed her legs; nervous anger bounced the top one up and down. “So why were you there in the first place?”

  “Our original suspect placed a cell phone call to a woman she claimed was paying her to sleep with the victim. We traced it to a tower in Quakertown.”

  Her heart pounded in a dizzying rhythm. His original suspect? Jesus, she’d been right there when Lanie had called. “Dominique couldn’t have done it. She wouldn’t.”

  Warren leveled a gaze at her that she’d never seen. This was straight, undiluted cop talking. “Do you have an alibi for her on the night of the shooting?”

  Ridelle thought for a moment. Dominique had taken Lanie’s payment up to the woman’s shelter in New York, which put her upstate that night. She frowned. “No. But that doesn’t mean she’s guilty.”

  “She was having an affair with Chester Harrison, wasn’t she?”

  “No! Of course not.”

  “We have witnesses who claim otherwise. Surely you knew?”

  She shook her head. “They must be lying. She’d have told me.”

  He shrugged. “Sleeping with a married man isn’t something you want to go around advertising.”

  “But, we’re her best friends. She said he didn’t want her.” Shit. The last part had just slipped out.

  His jaw went slack. “You knew she’d met this man and didn’t think to mention it when you learned I was working this case?”

  Words stuttered around her brain in fragments. “She said they met once, but he wasn’t interested in her. I didn’t think it possibly mattered.”

  “Everything matters in a murder investigation.”

  “But she didn’t do anything!”

  “Nothing she told you about. A bartender remembered her cozying up to him a couple months before the murder. Specifically recalled her introducing herself as Alice Smith. She left with him.”

  Ridelle stared. “They left together? They can’t have.”

  “Funny thing, next few times she came in with the victim, she was answering to a different name. Dominique.”

  The bartender had to have it wrong. Dom had gone there to try and get the guy’s attention, but she’d given up and admitted defeat. She’d been so distracted for a while over his rejection that she’d skipped lunches and not answered her calls.

  Her breath caught. Was that the reason she’d been so distracted?

  “None of this proves anything,” she said, as much to herself as to Warren.

  He shook his head. “There’s more. On the night of the shooting, one of the motel guests went missing before we could question her. According to the register, she’d signed in with a fake address—and the name Alice Smith.”

  Her ears buzzed as the room grew oddly dim and surreal. “Sounds like a pretty common name.”

  “Except the desk clerk remembered seeing her with the victim before. Guess whose photo he identified?”

  “Oh, God.” Ridelle’s elbows sank onto the table, and she rested a heavy head on her hands. “Why would she kill him?”

  “I have a theory about that. I think he was set up.”

  A lightning strike of resigned fear stabbed through her. “Set up?”

  “I believe she wanted to test him to see if he would cheat on her like he did his wife. So she hired a woman to seduce him, stuck around to see if it would work, and shot him when it did.”

  Confusion swirled around her head, and she licked dry lips. “That sounds crazy.”

  “People in love do crazy things,” he said, eyes boring into her enough to make her wonder who he was talking about. “I see proof all the time.”

  A thought twisted the wrong way in her craw. “Something I don’t understand. Surely there are a lot of Dominiques in the world. How did you know you had the right one?”

  “Got a description of her vehicle from a patron at the bar. With only a first name, we didn’t have much to go on, but once we traced that call to Quakertown we were able to narrow the DMV search. We found a Doylestown address and when we started checking her out, we learned that she traveled frequently to Quakertown to visit friends—and that you were one of them.”

  Tears finally broke. “I didn’t know she was seeing him, or that she’d killed anyone. I swear.”

  “I believe you. Seems like Dominique was keeping secrets from her friends. She ducked us twice when we went to question her, but that was before we knew she’d been placed at the scene on the night of the murder.”

  His cell interrupted this unbelievable turn of events. “Ross.”

  Warren looked at Ridelle as he listened, and despite the numbness creeping into her soul, his end of the conversation perked up her interest. “Shit. Where? Yeah. Hang on.”

  He nestled the phone against his mustard colored button down. “Any idea where she might be?”

  Her stomach flip-flopped. Yeah, she knew exactly where she was, along with the others. She could say no, but Warren might be testing her. If he’d been watching Dominique, he knew exactly where they’d all be right now.

  She sighed. “Odette’s. She’s at Odette’s restaurant in New Hope. We always go for lunch on Wednesdays.”

  “We know. That’s where we were expecting her.” He tapped a finger against a fork lying idle on the table. “That’s why I wanted you here, away from the mess when they went in to arrest her. The manager there told my partner that your friends left earlier than usual from lunch, and Dominique before the rest. She’s not at her condo, either.”

  Numb shock settled in. “Then I’ve no idea.”

  He went back to the phone. “She doesn’t know. I know. Yeah, get on that. Check the usuals. See you back at the pen.”

  The phone flipped shut and he closed his eyes for a moment.

  “She’s gone, isn’t she?” Ridelle asked.

  “So it seems. We’ll find her, though.”

  A note of exhaustion crept into her voice. “I’d think you would want to be out there too, looking.”

  “More than you know. But I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because of you.”

  She frowned. “Why?” God, maybe he did know more than he’d revealed.

  “It’s true that I didn’t know who you were when we met. But our involvement put me too close to the case. Right now, my partner’s the only one who knows, but that’s about to change. Meanwhile, we agreed it’s better if I take a step back.”

  She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We had no way of knowing. Anyway, that’s why I’m not part of the arrest team.”

  “No, you’re up here with me. Why?”

  He leaned forward, and this time when he reached for her hand, she set it on the table for him to grab. “Don’t you know? I care about you, Ridelle. I knew how difficult this was going to be, and I didn’t want you in the middle of that mess. I wanted you safe, and I wanted to be here for you when it all went
down.”

  A sickle of guilt and nausea swiped at her stomach. “You called me up here because you knew I would be at Odette’s.”

  “Yes.”

  “Or you wanted to question me to find out if I helped commit the murder.”

  He gave her hand a less than romantic squeeze. “No, Ridelle. That’s not it.” He released her and sat back. “But you should know that you will have to be questioned. You might even be called as a witness, a hostile one if need be. And there’s still the fact that our original suspect claimed two women paid her to sleep with the victim. We know Dominique was one. Hopefully we’ll find out who her accomplice was.”

  What little remained of Ridelle’s spirit drained from her toes and sank into the depths of the floor. What if they showed Lanie a photo of her? She might recognize “Angel” through the weak disguise. It would still be over for Ridelle, whether or not Dominique was found to spill the rest of the story.

  Had Dom gone on the run? Maybe they all should. But why run if they weren’t guilty? Dominique had probably done it to protect all of them. The money would be the only suspicious tie to their dirty deeds.

  The money.

  An odd feeling curled itself around her stomach, and suddenly Ridelle knew something she wished she didn’t. Dominique controlled all the funds, depositing and investing in sneaky ways known only to her. They’d trusted her, largely because no one wanted to deal with the evidence directly. Dom mentioned recently that she’d moved it out of the country, for their own protection. So if nothing else, with her gone, they had no way of accessing a dime.

  That was that, then. Game over. Her friend was a fugitive, and the rest might soon follow or be caught. And they’d be caught penniless.

  Not only had she risked everything, she’d done it for nothing.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Six Months Later

  Ridelle watched through the bars as a nondescript pack of people walked away. Turning away from the wrought iron screen door, she headed back to the small table and sat down. Almost without thinking, her eyes shifted to the vacant four-top with an enviable view of the river. From her vantage point, the mysteries of the Delaware were hidden. Scattered trees and a vague, gray sky was the only scenery visible as she gazed beyond the table a certain group of friends had sat every Wednesday for close to ten years.

  Ridelle still ate lunch at Odette’s sometimes, though she could never bring herself to sit at that table. So many secrets had unfolded there. Secrets that cemented them together, and others that tore them apart. Dominique had seen to that. Ironic that she’d been the one who’d brought them all together in the first place. Ridelle wouldn’t have believed she’d been the glue holding their quartet together, but once she’d gone the rest could never quite coalesce into a trio. The woman who’d started it had ended it—with lies, thieving, and betrayal.

  Ridelle picked through her salad, bypassing olives and tomato wedges to spear crumbles of blue cheese. The trio hadn’t completely fallen apart. They still spoke by phone, and they’d stuck together when it had counted most—when the police investigation had landed on each of their doorsteps. They kept their stories straight. Lanie had not been able to finger the second accomplice, and the truth of the seduction for hire scheme had remained hidden.

  Still, they’d all been pulled from a dream to a distorted reality of what their lives truly were. Meanwhile, there was always the threat that more facts would come out. That Dominique would be apprehended and would take the rest down with her. Though part of her hated the woman for lying and stealing from them, she knew Dom had given them a reprieve—at least for the time being. So for that she cheered on Dominique Trudeaux, wishing the sleazy bitch God speed to run far and keep running.

  “Get anything else for you, Miss?” the waiter asked.

  She shot him a look. “Very funny. No thanks, Ronald.”

  He regarded her for a moment, then nodded toward the vacant window table. “Still can’t get used to you sitting anywhere other than table eight.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I miss my Wednesday regulars.”

  She snorted. “You miss the tip, you mean.”

  “Decided to stop doing the lunch thing?”

  She leaned forward, twiddling a salt shaker. “Busy schedules. You know how it is.”

  He nodded. “Couple of them still come in. Always alone. They won’t sit at table eight, either.”

  She shrugged. “Kind of a big table if you’re dining alone.”

  “Haven’t seen that one woman, though. Dark hair, fancy dresser. Whatever happened to her?”

  Ronald obviously suffered from a news deficit. Dominique’s picture had been plastered all over the papers back when the whole mess went down. Ridelle offered a wan smile. “She moved away. We lost touch.”

  “Oh.” He flashed the trademark smile that convinced many a woman to fish deeper into her wallet when pulling out his tip. “You know, you don’t have to sit there alone. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”

  “I don’t.” The words bit harder than she intended, and she leaned toward him to recapture his downcast eyes. “But hey, thanks.”

  The chirp of her cell phone ended an awkward pause, and with a quick nod Ronald was gone.

  “Hey.” Fran’s voice was thin these days, devoid of her trademark ditzy twitter.

  “Hey yourself. I was just thinking about you.”

  “Me too. How’s life?”

  “One toe in front of the other. Business?”

  “Slow, but I’m expecting it to pick up for last minute holiday panic. Women always want to redecorate before company comes.”

  “Heard from Twyla lately?”

  There was a sigh on the other end. “That’s why I called, actually. She and Andy are getting a divorce.”

  Shock twanged through her stomach. “What? Never saw that coming.”

  “I know. And with the kids and all. Glad I didn’t have that problem.”

  “How’s she taking it?”

  “Okay, considering.”

  An unpleasant thought hit. “It’s not because of, you know. He didn’t find out about anything?”

  “No, no. I’m sure she would have told me.”

  One would think.

  “I should call her.”

  “She’d like that. She’s at the house. Andy moved out.”

  “Weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  Time ticked by in silence.

  “Well, I just thought you’d want to know.”

  “I do. Thanks.”

  When she clicked off, Ronald was back at the table. “Time’s up.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Important call.”

  She rose, tucking the phone back in her pocket and picking up her salad plate.

  “You don’t need to do that,” Ronald chided. “Armand can bus the table for you.”

  The entry door opened to a gaggle of seniors.

  “Ah, the blue-haired gamblers,” he said. “That’ll be good for a party of ten to fifteen. Why don’t you take it?”

  Ridelle blinked. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Go get ’em.”

  He winked and moved off as the hostess shoved three tables together for the group. Ridelle watched Ronald go, wondering whether she should change her mind about dating. The panic of dating a cop who was on her trail had yet to fade, even four months after she discreetly broke things off. No, she didn’t have the stomach for a relationship just yet. But perhaps, maybe giving “too nice” a try was something she would consider. Someday.

  A final glance out the window revealed the Delaware, winking and rippling with laughter and whispering secrets that no one else could hear. She could only hope her secrets remained just as safe.

  Lifting her gaze above the New Jersey horizon, she wondered whether a certain missing friend was looking back, wishing for happier days and friends and that their mysteries would remain forever buried in silt.

  Moving alongside the tour group just bac
k from taking their risks on Atlantic City, Ridelle fished inside her apron pocket and whisked out a pad and pen.

  “Good afternoon,” she said. “I’m Ridelle, and I’ll be your server today. Can I start you ladies off with something?”

  Epilogue

  From her vantage spot on the golden crescent of beach, the green-blue jewel of the sea appeared deceptively calm. But beneath, a whole other world shifted and pulsed with a rhythm of chaos and ever-changing movement.

  Oversized sunglasses and a giant straw hat tied with a filmy Hermes scarf could not wage sufficient battle against the harsh glaze of the sun as it hit the water, so the dark-haired woman turned her attention back to a slender glass in the armrest of her lounge. Sipping the exotic, multi-colored concoction left a perfect ring of red around a straw that was little wider than a coffee stirrer.

  Glancing around, a shining knight appeared on the horizon in the form of the waiter in short white jacket and pants. He delivered drinks off a tray to a group of vacationers nearby. Catching his eye, she lifted her glass and tapped it with one impatient but impeccably manicured fingernail.

  He materialized by her side, leaving her a moment’s wonder at how they managed to get to and fro so readily through the dense sand. “Yes, Mrs. Walters?”

  “Trudy, my dear. Ms. Trudy Walters. What does one have to do to get an actual straw?” To his confused glance at hers she added, “One that does not require collapsing my cheeks under the strain of acquiring a single drop?”

  “Right away.”

  He headed off, managing to almost float above the sand unlike the wealthy and self-important guests who shuffled like walruses through it. Setting her glass in the armrest, Dominique-slash-Trudy leaned back in her reclining chaise and closed her eyes. For the briefest of moments, an image of a summer-tinged Delaware River rippled into place. She pictured three remaining friends laughing together over barbecued ribs and Twyla’s homemade potato salad. Or were they shuffling along in chains and orange jumpsuits in a prison courtyard?

  With a frown, her eyes slid open, reorienting her to the sea and the freedom she’d found across that endless stretch. Thoughts of her past life were useless. She could never go back.