Best Friends Forever Page 8

  “I am absolutely sure that Kat would have no idea how to go about hiring a hit man,” I said. “It’s not like they advertise online. Or do they? Are there hit men out there with Facebook pages?”

  Demer laughed. “I suppose it’s possible, but I can’t imagine they would stay in business very long if they advertised on Facebook.”

  “Katherine Grant’s father is Thomas Wyeth,” Oliver said.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “There have been rumors about connections between Wyeth Construction and organized crime for years,” Oliver added. She leaned back and spread her hands out in front of her, palms up. “If I was looking to hire a hit man and my daddy knew some mobsters, I think I know where I’d go.”

  “Then maybe your husband should be worried.” I had lost all patience with the sergeant.

  Oliver looked at me coldly. “There was a witness.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “Someone saw Howard Grant pushed off the balcony,” Oliver snapped. “I think it’s about time you dropped this Little Miss Innocent act and start telling us what you know.”

  Demer stood abruptly.

  “Sergeant, let’s step outside.” The detective was no longer genial. Instead he looked angry and, for the first time since I’d met him that morning, a little intimidating.

  “Fine.” Oliver spat out the word. She stood, too, crossed her arms over her chest and stalked out of the room. A moment later, after first casting a lingering glance in my direction, the detective followed her.

  I sat as still as I could long after the door had shut behind them. I had no idea if anyone out there in the Jupiter Island Public Safety Department—Christ, what a name—was watching me. I didn’t see any obvious two-way mirrors in the so-called conference room, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t being observed. For all I knew, they had cameras on me. I had to assume that a Jupiter Island police station had the very best tech available to them. It was important that I remain calm with my senses sharp. I needed to figure out what was going on.

  I was also starting to suspect that the fact Kat hadn’t returned my phone calls was more significant than I had first realized.

  9

  Two Years Earlier

  “Wow, you look fantastic,” Todd said as I emerged from the bedroom.

  “Thank you,” I said, fighting my customary impulse to deflect compliments. I had learned well from Kat’s example.

  We had been invited to Kat’s parents’ annual holiday party. They lived on the island of Palm Beach, so I knew it would be a swanky affair. I was wearing the black beaded cocktail dress I had worn to a wedding Todd and I had attended a few years earlier, and I’d twisted my hair into a low chignon. Like most redheads, I couldn’t pull off heavy makeup—it looked garish against my pale, lightly freckled skin—but I did put on eyeliner, mascara and a swipe of rose lipstick.

  Our babysitter, Emma Vanover, had arrived while I was dressing. She was a not-very-bright but sweet-natured fifteen-year-old, and she was currently the children’s favorite sitter. Bridget liked her because Emma had a limitless enthusiasm for tedious make-believe games. “You be the evil stepmother and the dragon and the pet goat, and I’ll be the princess and the unicorn.” Liam liked Emma because she left him alone to play video games without the annoying time limits his parents imposed on him.

  “Our cell phone numbers are on the fridge,” I told Emma after I’d greeted her. “We’re going to a holiday party. I don’t think we’ll be out past midnight, but I’ll text you if our plans change.”

  “No problem,” Emma said perkily.

  I ran through the basic house rules for the evening—bedtimes, allowed snacks, time limits on computer games—and Emma nodded enthusiastically along with each one. I knew she’d ignore almost all of the parameters I was giving her. Bridget was a startlingly honest child and always told me when the babysitters didn’t follow the rules. I was just happy if they didn’t drink our booze or invite their boyfriends over to have sex on the living room couch.

  “What’s this evening going to be like?” Todd asked once we were in the car, driving south.

  It may seem odd, but on the rare nights when we did go out, I almost enjoyed the ride there more than the event itself. The novelty of being dressed up and out on our own, unencumbered by children. The chance to talk over whatever the issue of the day was, whether it was our own domestic matters or something weightier on the news. My feet didn’t yet hurt from walking in the unaccustomed heels, and my head was still clear and sharp.

  In response to my husband’s question, I shrugged, not that he’d be able to see me in the darkness.

  “I’m not sure. Kat said her parents throw this party every year. I doubt we’ll know anyone there other than Kat and Howard.”

  “Ah, Howard. My favorite,” Todd said. He had never forgiven Howard for his rudeness, not that he had seen him since the dinner party all those months ago.

  “Kat’s dad is a builder, so I’m sure you’ll have plenty in common with him.”

  Todd laughed. “Babe, her dad isn’t a builder. He’s a mogul. There’s a big difference.”

  “Is there? You’re both in the construction business, albeit from different angles. I’m sure you’d have plenty to talk about.”

  Todd glanced at me. “Are you trying to get me to audition for a job?”

  “No, of course not. Why would you think that? Does he hire architects?”

  “Wyeth Construction has anywhere from ten to fifteen architects on staff. It’s a lucrative and soul-sucking position.”

  “Why soul-sucking?”

  “Because all they do is design the same cookie-cutter houses for the various subdivisions Wyeth develops.”

  “And that’s bad because...?” I asked.

  “Because that’s not what I went to school to do,” Todd said tersely. “That’s not the kind of architect I want to be.”

  I nodded but didn’t say anything. What was the point? If I commented that he wasn’t setting the world of architecture on fire now, it would start the evening on a sour note.

  The Wyeths lived in a large house on Lagomar Road, with southern views of the Intracoastal. It was two stories and featured lots of columns and double glass doors. The grounds were as manicured as those of a high-end country club, with decorative shrubs and tall palm trees. Todd turned onto the circular brick-tiled driveway, the mouth of which was flanked by two stone lions. We slowly followed the line of cars curving up toward the front door, where valets were stationed to relieve drivers of their cars. Everyone I could see was dressed to the nines. A few of the women were even wearing gowns. I felt a prick of concern, wondering if my little black dress was dressy enough.

  “This all looks very ritzy,” Todd commented.

  “What did you expect?” I asked. “A family-style barbecue with hot dogs and hamburgers?”

  “If so, I think I’d be disappointed,” Todd said.

  We reached the top of the driveway. The valet, a young man with military-short hair and a white jacket, opened the door for me.

  “Welcome,” he said politely.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I waited for Todd to join me and then took his arm. We walked into the house.

  I’d never been a particularly social person. I preferred quiet nights at home reading a book or watching a movie to attending parties. I’d looked forward to the children’s school’s annual auction fund-raiser with equal parts of dread and resignation. (The year that Liam contracted stomach flu the night before the event, thus giving us a good excuse not to attend, was cause for celebration in our house.) But I had to admit, I had been looking forward to the Wyeth Christmas party ever since the engraved Crane invitation arrived in the mail a month earlier.

  I knew the party would be glamorous, and a departure from our usual holiday social schedule, which revolved he
avily around school concerts and cookie swaps. But I was also especially interested in meeting Kat’s family. I was curious to see how they matched up with her descriptions. Her mother, controlling, haughty and easily disappointed. Her father, warm and lovable toward his daughter, but a tough and ruthless businessman. Her older brother, Josh, who was smart and successful, but also humorless and self-centered.

  Todd and I walked into the grand foyer, a vast, high-ceilinged space. It was already crowded, with many different generations represented. I didn’t recognize a single person.

  “Alice! You made it!”

  I turned to see Kat sweeping toward me, her arms open. She looked beautiful in a gold sequined A-line dress and very high heels. She gave me a huge hug and Todd a kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a smear of red lipstick.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Kat said, beaming at us both. She leaned toward me and whispered, “Maybe this year I’ll actually have fun for a change.”

  “Why? Is it normally awful?” I whispered back.

  Kat rolled her eyes comically. “I didn’t want to tell you ahead of time in case you bailed, but yes. It can be brutal. Come on, let’s get you both a drink, and then I’ll introduce you to my parents.”

  Kat hailed a passing waiter and snagged us each a flute of champagne off a silver tray.

  “I need to introduce you to the Dragon Lady so we can get it out of the way and start having fun,” Kat said.

  “You call your mother the Dragon Lady?” I asked with a laugh.

  “You will, too, after you meet her. Come on, let’s get it over with.”

  Kat shepherded us into a formal living area, which was slightly less crowded than the foyer, but only because there wasn’t much space to stand. I couldn’t help notice that quite unlike Kat’s spare, modern taste, the theme in this room was glamorous excess. There was barely an inch where some sort of overstuffed chair, couch or occasional table hadn’t been crammed. Portraits hung on the walls, including one that I thought must be of Kat when she was a girl. The effect of the room would have been overwhelming even when it was empty of people. Filled with a crowd, it was claustrophobic.

  Kat grabbed my hand and pulled me along, while Todd trailed behind us. “Mother, I’d like you to meet my friend Alice, and her husband, Todd.”

  I found myself face-to-face with a tall woman—taller than Kat—with steel-gray hair pulled back from a surprisingly youthful face. She was wearing a column of white silk, and her only makeup was dark red lipstick. She must have been beautiful in her youth. Even now she was an incredibly handsome woman.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mrs. Wyeth said. She shook each of our hands in turn, somehow infusing this most pedestrian of greeting with a sort of grandeur. Her grip was firm, and her chin tilted upward.

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” I said.

  “Thank you for inviting us,” Todd added.

  “You’re quite welcome,” Mrs. Wyeth replied.

  Eleanor Wyeth was cool and crisp and utterly devoid of warmth. It felt a bit as though we’d been brought before a queen. I could feel Kat tense beside me.

  “I’ve told you about Alice,” Kat said. “Remember?”

  Eleanor Wyeth studied me. “Oh, right. The logician.”

  I glanced at Kat, surprised she had described me this way, but nodded.

  “I gather you teach?” Eleanor Wyeth asked.

  “I was a professor, but I stopped working once my daughter was born. These days I’m just a standard stay-at-home mom,” I answered.

  Kat looked from me to her mother. “Don’t be so modest, Alice. She wrote a book. Isn’t that amazing?”

  “A book,” Mrs. Wyeth repeated without even a hint of interest. “I don’t suppose it’s something I would have read?”

  “It’s a children’s book of logic puzzles.”

  “Then probably not,” she said with a tinkle of dismissive laughter. She looked at someone over my shoulder. “Judge Barnes, how nice of you to join us.”

  Our audience with the queen was over. Mrs. Wyeth held out a hand to the judge, and I edged to the side to get out of their way. In the process, I banged my knee against a coffee table.

  “Ouch.”

  “I know. Let’s get out of here. There isn’t any room to breathe, much less stand,” Kat said too loudly.

  I glanced at Eleanor Wyeth just in time to see her cast a disapproving look in her daughter’s direction.

  Kat either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. Or maybe she was used to her mother’s disapproving looks. “Are you hungry?”

  “No,” I said just as Todd said, “Starving.”

  “There’s a huge spread in the dining room.” Kat pointed the way to Todd. “We’ll be out on the patio, by the pool. Get a plate and come find us.”

  “Do either of you want anything?” Todd asked, but Kat and I both shook our heads, and he headed off toward the food.

  “What’s on the patio?” I asked.

  “My dad, probably. He likes to hide out there and smoke cigars, which he’s been expressly forbidden to do.” Kat fake-coughed. “Come on. I can’t wait for him to meet you.”

  I nodded and smiled, feeling a flush of pleasure at Kat’s warmth, especially in the wake of how coldly her mother had dismissed me. I’ve never had much interest in the pursuit of social power. I’ve watched the alpha school mothers jockey for positions on the PTA and felt only mild curiosity over why anyone would care that much about who got to be in charge of the book fair fund-raiser or the field day activities. Even worse, though, were the betas, the sycophantic toadies who would do anything to cozy up to and curry favor from the alphas. The whole dynamic both confused and exhausted me. I was only too glad to avoid it.

  Still, perhaps my own disinterest in such social politicking had made me naive about what these women did once they achieved such positions. Kat’s mother, who certainly occupied a far higher place on the social ladder than the PTA Queen Bees, wielded her position as a weapon. Warm smiles for the lucky favorites, icy disdain for the rest. I wasn’t exactly sure what had put me in the latter group. It could have been simply that I was a friend of Kat’s. I knew their relationship was strained. Or perhaps Eleanor Wyeth was a snob who believed that a middle-class suburban mother was not worthy of her attention. Maybe a little of both.

  I followed Kat out onto the veranda, which was very large and grand and had a spectacular view of the water. Kat, who lived several miles to the north, could have boated down to her parents’ house if she wished. The veranda had a pergola overhead and was furnished with navy upholstered patio furniture, glass tables and large potted palm trees. Off to one side was a rectangular pool surrounded by statuary. There was a chill in the air, but it felt good after the crush of the crowd inside.

  Kat looked around for her father.

  “He’s not here.” She looked disappointed. “Oh, well, he’s bound to come out eventually.”

  She plopped down onto one of the rattan chairs and kicked her heels off. I took the chair next to her.

  “I’m sorry about my mother,” Kat said. “I should have warned you that she can be... What would be a polite way of saying this? Difficult, I suppose. Although even that might be sugarcoating it.”

  “It’s fine.” I sipped my champagne. “I’m sure it’s not personal. I didn’t take it that way.”

  “Oh, but it is personal.” Kat let out a humorless laugh.

  “What?” I asked, startled.

  “I mean, no, of course it’s not personal about you. She obviously doesn’t know you. But she’s always been predisposed not to like any of my friends. She always warned me when I was younger that the people who wanted to be my friends might have ulterior motives,” Kat explained.

  “What kind of ulterior motives?”

  “Money,” Kat said simply. “That’s part of it. But also access to the famil
y. Which really means access to Daddy. Mother does it to my brother, Josh, too, but nowhere near the extent she’s shoved it down my throat. I think in her twisted view of the world, it’s normal for men to use money to attract women, friends, business, whatever. Not so for women.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s equal parts sexist and paranoid.”

  “That’s my mother,” Kat agreed, holding up her mostly empty flute of champagne in a mock toast. “A paranoid sexist. It should say that on her gravestone. It’s as accurate an epitaph as any.”

  “The entire time you were growing up, you were worried that anyone who was nice to you had an ulterior motive?” I asked.

  Kat put her champagne flute down and leaned back in her chair, tucking her feet beneath her. “Not exactly. I had some good friends, people I trusted. And I knew from a fairly young age that my mother was full of shit. But sure, it did make me wonder sometimes. It affected me more when I was a little older and started dating, especially after I graduated from college. I’d wonder if the men who asked me out were really interested in me, or if they were just hoping to marry into the Wyeth family. I think that’s part of the reason I fell so hard for the senator.” Kat still hadn’t told me the name of her ex-lover and Amanda’s father. “He had no intention of ever leaving his wife, so I knew that he, at least, wanted to be with me for me. Or at least, that’s how I rationalized it after he broke my heart.”

  “What about Howard?”

  Kat turned to look at me, her eyes large and unreadable. “Howard,” she mused. “To be honest, I’ve never been entirely sure—” She stopped abruptly, and then her face brightened. “Daddy!”

  She hopped up and, without bothering to put her shoes back on, hurried across the veranda to a squarely built man with snow-white hair. Thomas Wyeth smiled down at his daughter and folded her into his arms. Kat hugged him back fiercely, then broke away to wave me over.

  “Daddy, I want you to meet my friend Alice. Alice, this is my father, Thomas,” Kat said, tucking her hand in the crook of her father’s elbow. He extended his other hand to me.