“What the hell do you want?” Kezzie Harwood moaned, peering at him through slitted eyes. She held an ice pack to her head with one hand and dribbled what looked like a lime spritzer with the other.
Ellery stepped out from under the rainfall of lime spritzer. “Three minutes of your time.”
“Do I know you?”
Good question. If he hadn’t known for sure this was the right address, he might not have recognized Kezzie. She wore plum-colored capris, and was much shorter without the haystack-sized wig. Minus all the red velvet and lace, she was a waif of a woman with bruised-looking blue eyes, severely cropped black hair, and a colorless face beneath smoked-purple lipstick.
“I was at the party last night. I’m Julian’s friend.”
“Oh God. Julian.” Her face twisted. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Me neither.” Any of it. All of it.
“Come in.” She backed up, nearly overbalanced, and caught herself. “Did you want a drink?”
“Uh…sure. Whatever you’re having.” Ellery couldn’t believe he’d gotten inside so easily. He closed the door and followed her unsteady progress down the sunlit hall.
“I wouldn’t have thought he had the wherewithal.” Kezzie dropped her ice pack on a small shaker table, glancing back at Ellery. “No offense, but you know what I mean.”
“Well…” Ellery hedged.
“Oh, sure. I get it. And he’s crazy about you. But I mean, who would have thought he could be violent?”
They had reached a bright and sunny open-concept kitchen with distressed wooden floors and a wall of windows looking out over sandy white beach. Kezzie went to the fridge and took out a bottle of sparkling water. “I don’t know about you, but I’m never drinking again.”
She stopped, frowning.
Uh-oh. She wonders what I’m doing here.
Kezzie brightened. “Glasses. Right.” She pointed at a row of white cupboards. “Can you be a love?”
“Sure.” Ellery got out a tall glass and brought it to Kezzie, who took it with shaking hands. She squeezed lime into the fizzy water. “Oh God. I forgot the ice.”
“No worries,” Ellery said. “I don’t need ice.”
“Let’s sit out on the deck. I need fresh air.”
Ellery followed her out through sliding glass doors to a long, weathered deck. She collapsed into a pillow-lined hammock chair and closed her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Ellery asked.
She shook her head. Opened her eyes. “What was your name again?”
“Ellery.”
“Right. You’re the actor. You played Jason?”
Ellery nearly did a spritzer spit-take. “No. I was in the Happy Halloween! You’re Dead movies. It was a long time ago.”
“Right?” She closed her eyes again.
Ellery wasn’t sure if she had drifted off. He watched the hypnotic wash of waves over the shore, listened to the gulls squawking overhead. Between the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun, and his own hangover, he was tempted to close his eyes too.
Kezzie said suddenly, “Marguerite, now that I could believe.” She stared at Ellery bleakly.
“Really?”
“Sure. She did it before.”
“She…”
“Seriously?” Kezzie rolled her eyes so hard, they nearly disappeared in the back of her skull. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
“Well, I sort of thought…”
“She got away with it once, so she figured she could get away with it a second time. She’s a coldhearted bitch.” She wiped angrily at the tears leaking down the sides of her face. “I really loved that man, you know what I mean?”
Ellery nodded, though in fact, he had no clue. Zero.
“I’m not kidding myself he was an angel. I wouldn’t want an angel. We understood each other.”
After all, the only way to play a part convincingly was to throw yourself into it. He cannonballed into the deep end. “That’s how it seemed to me.”
“What we had was special.”
“Exactly.”
“That they would arrest Julian… Julian? He’s harmless. The only good part about this, is it will kill Marguerite that her adored Julian got caught in her web. Coldhearted…” She trailed off, staring moodily at the ocean.
Ellery said, “The thing I can’t figure out is why she’d kill Brett. Why not just divorce him?”
Kezzie scowled. “That’s obvious.”
“Is it?”
“Of course. No one leaves Marguerite. Not Ambrose or whatever his name was. Not Julian. And sure as hell not Brett. As far as she’s concerned, Brett was signed, sealed, and delivered.” She put her face in her hands. “Poor Brett. Poor, poor Brett.” She began to massage her temples.
Ellery rummaged around for another line of questioning. He said tentatively, “Were the police horrible to you too?”
Kezzie sat up. “Oh God! Were they horrible to you? I bet they were. I bet they’re all totally homophobic. That tin-pot chief of police is such an arrogant jerk. Sitting there all smug and judgy. Small-town minds. All of them.”
“Yeah.” Ellery refrained from pointing out that Jack was from Los Angeles and had been a detective with LAPD.
“I’m sure that’s part of why they decided to make Julian the scapegoat. I feel so sorry for you guys. But you know, Julian will probably get off on grounds of…” She whistled a two-note cuckoo call.
“Thanks,” Ellery said faintly.
Okay. This was starting to get unsettling—for a variety of reasons. For one thing, he did not dislike Klementina Harwood nearly as much as he’d expected. In fact, he kind of felt sorry for her. She really did seem genuinely broken up about Brett.
For another thing, he felt like he already had more information than he knew what to do with. And if not actual information, at least troubling hints at information he suspected he was not going to like. Interviewing Kezzie was like trying to herd cats. Cute little cats with giant claws and fangs.
He finished his sparkling lime and rose. Kezzie didn’t seem to notice. She continued to stare grimly at the waves hitting the sand.
“Thanks for your time.”
She nodded, still not looking at him.
“Will you be all right?”
“No.” She looked at him then. “You’re a nice boy. Don’t get involved with that family. Pirates. Incest. Madness. Murder. Steer clear. Take my word for it.”
Yikes.
“Okay. Well…”
She shaded her eyes. “You won’t listen. You’re in love. But that bloodline is tainted.”
“Ohhhhhh-kay,” Ellery said. “Thanks again. And I’m-I’m sorry for your loss.”
Kezzie turned her profile to him and went back to gazing at the sunlit water.
A mint-condition blue Buick Roadmaster Skylark was parked in the drive when Ellery walked down the front porch steps of Kezzie’s beach house.
Locke Lombard, dressed in jeans and a high-end denim work shirt, was peering through the driver’s window of Ellery’s VW.
“Hi, Locke. Can I help you?”