She thrust her phone in Seneca’s face. Seneca glanced at the image on the screen. It was a guy’s lower half in a very sheer bathing suit. ‘Ew.’
‘Not ew. That’s the captain of the lacrosse team.’ Madison jumped up. ‘I have to send a picture back.’ She peered into a round mirror embossed with seashells and fluffed her hair.
Seneca stared at her. ‘Please don’t say you’re going to get naked.’
‘Uh, no.’ Madison wrinkled her nose. ‘But I’ll show some cleavage.’ She smoothed down her dress. ‘This is all wrong. Want to help me pick out something else?’
‘That’s not really my specialty.’
‘Boo,’ Madison simpered. She scooped up her pipe and whipped open the door to the stairs. But then she turned back and gave Seneca a sly look. ‘It’s Helena Kelly, isn’t it?’
‘W-what?’
‘That’s why you’re here. He’s looking into her again.’
Again? Seneca fumbled for an excuse, but she knew that her expression gave her away, because Madison scurried back into the room. ‘Let me help.’
‘Help?’
‘I knew Helena, too.’ Madison edged closer, her hair smelling like weed. ‘Before my mom died, she was in hospice care, and Helena was a volunteer. She stopped at 7-Eleven to get my mom Naked Juice because it was the only thing she could get down. She didn’t have to do that.’
‘I’m sorry about your mom,’ Seneca said automatically. ‘But I don’t think it’s a good idea. This could get dangerous.’
Madison snorted. ‘I can take danger.’
‘Actually, it’s not going to be dangerous at all – more like boring.’ Seneca reversed her story, trying to shake Madison. ‘We’re probably going to quit soon. We’ve gotten nowhere.’
Madison glanced at Seneca’s cell phone, which was face up on the table. Seneca’s text to her dad was gone; the thing had switched to Google seemingly on its own. In the search box were the words Kevin Larssen, campaign schedule, plain as day. Seneca tried to hide the screen, but the damage was already done.
‘You think it’s that Kevin guy?’ Madison squeaked. ‘He was a hospice volunteer, too. I didn’t really know him, but he didn’t seem like a raging, murdering crazy-man.’
‘We just want to talk to him,’ Seneca said quickly, feeling self-conscious. ‘Certain things don’t make sense about his alibi.’
‘So call up his campaign office. It’s right in town.’
Seneca scoffed. ‘If he’s guilty, he’ll never talk. We have to catch him off-guard.’
Madison’s smile widened. ‘You’re in luck, then. I know a place where he’ll be off-guard for sure. The Dexby Country Club, tomorrow. It’s his engagement party.’
‘How do you know that?’
Madison cozied up to Seneca and linked an elbow through hers. ‘Because I’ve got an invitation.’
CHAPTER 12
Tuesday afternoon, Maddox stood in a bedroom full of faux-fur throws, pink leopard curtains, Katy Perry posters, and Hello Kitty everything. His bare feet sank into a Pepto-colored shag rug, and he stared into the closet, which was stuffed with dresses, tops, shoes, and bags. Seneca, Aerin, and Brett stood behind him. And standing in front of him, grinning maniacally, was his stepsister, Madison. It was her closet; this was her room.
‘All right, ladies.’ Madison gestured to the open closet doors. ‘For a party at the Dexby Country Club, I’ll direct your attention to the Marc Jacobs section in 3-A.’
Aerin tittered. ‘Your closet is organized like a parking lot?’
The two of them started talking about hem length, fabrics, and designers – well, he assumed it was designers, though he didn’t really know. Seneca hung back, looking like a fish out of water, but then Madison held a dress up to her thin frame and pulled her in. Maddox laid his head against the wall and pretended to snore. This sort of bullshit put him to sleep.
Last night, there had been a knock at his door. He’d hoped that it was Seneca – maybe she wanted to talk about her mom. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d looked up her mom’s story and read a few of Seneca’s interviews. He’d lingered on a CBS News link, too, staring at a picture of Seneca from five years before. Her little face was so innocent and scared.
How had she concealed that so well? How did she function? It also explained why she’d freaked at his maybe-we-should-have-said-we-knew-where-she-was-coming-from comment. Seneca did know where Aerin was coming from.
Instead, it had been his sister at the door. ‘Meet the new member of your team!’ Madison had crowed, raising her arms over her head. ‘We’re so going to catch Helena Kelly’s killer.’
Maddox had been blindsided. ‘Did Aerin tell you?’ Aerin had mentioned knowing Madison. ‘Nope, Seneca did,’ Madison answered. That was even weirder. Why hadn’t Seneca played better defence? ‘You people need me,’ Madison insisted. ‘You want to talk to Kevin Larssen, and I have an invite to his engagement party tomorrow. It’s a win-win.’
Maddox and his stepsister were cool. When their families merged, she’d never been bitchy or manipulative, like stepsisters were on TV. And when Maddox became popular, Madison practically lost her mind with joy, saying they needed to throw him a Maddox Is an Alpha Dog party, which he’d immediately shot down. But that was the thing: Madison had a way of making everything into a fun free-for-all, a goofy, frothy party full of pink silly string and pillow fights and pot – super-hot when Maddox wanted to spy on girls at a sleepover, but kind of inappropriate when solving a murder. Aerin had said it herself: this was her life. Not a game.
Still, Madison had promised she’d take it very seriously. Maddox didn’t know what else to do but let her help.
His gaze fell to his sister’s Hello Kitty clock on the bedside table. It was 2:03 p.m. He was supposed to be running with Catherine, but he’d bailed. It had nothing to do with the kiss, though. Well, almost nothing. Seriously – he’d barely even thought about it. It was more that they had to get ready for tonight.
Brett reached into the mass of clothes and plucked out an iridescent gold dress with a tie up the back. He handed it to Aerin. ‘This would look great on you.’
Aerin gave him a circumspect look and studied the label. When she held it up to her body, the color immediately brightened up her pale skin.
‘Gorge,’ Madison said appreciatively.
‘Yeah, I kind of can’t believe it.’ Aerin glanced at Brett and grinned.
Maddox rolled his eyes. ‘Dude, Brett, you are such a girl.’
Brett just shrugged. ‘What can I say? I’m a natural-born stylist.’
‘Well, I should hope so, considering who your grandmother was,’ Aerin pointed out.
Maddox nodded, reflecting on Brett’s true identity as well. The Grady dynasty was legendary … but what a nasty thing to have gone through. In some ways, Maddox felt a little naive to be around three people who’d experienced such heinous losses, like they were wise in ways he wasn’t. Then again, was it like he wanted to be wise to murder? Hell, no.
‘Pick one for me,’ Seneca urged to Brett, pointing to the closet.
Brett chose a dress made of red satin and handed it to Seneca. As Seneca gazed at herself in the mirror, Maddox felt a rise of impatience and cleared his throat. ‘Can we put a pin in the fashion show? How are Brett and I getting into this party?’
Brett looked up from the shoes and snapped his fingers. ‘I know how we can get in. Maddox, my man, you and I are going to be cater waiters.’
Aerin wrinkled her nose. ‘You mean you’re going to pass around drinks?’
‘Yep. My family used to have catered parties all the time. You circulate with trays, butter people up, hang out. Rich people totally don’t notice the waitstaff. Kevin might say something in front of one of us. Or we could get him drunk and then start asking questions.’
Madison shrugged. ‘Sounds fun.’ Brett shot her a wink and an I-like-your-style point.
‘I agree,’ Seneca said. ‘But how are you going to get
a catering job there so quickly?’
‘We’ll just take someone’s place,’ Brett said.
‘How are we going to do that?’ Maddox asked.
Brett pulled a bottle of Patrón tequila from his bag. Madison lunged for it. ‘Me want!’
Brett slipped the bottle back into his bag. ‘This is for the caterers. We give them the bottle, say we’ll take their job but they’ll still get the check, and we’re golden.’
Maddox sat down on the Hello Kitty quilt on Madison’s bed. It sounded like a crazy idea, but it wasn’t like they had anything else. ‘I’m game.’
Brett slapped Maddox’s hand. Madison gave him a high five. And out of the corner of his eye, Maddox noticed Seneca smiling. But when he turned, she averted her eyes and pressed her mouth into a line, like he’d just caught her doing something naughty.
Well, well. It seemed like Seneca was starting to warm up to the team, finally … even if she didn’t want to admit it.
CHAPTER 13
A few hours later, Brett stood in the men’s locker room at the Dexby Country Club, which smelled of shoe leather and old-guy aftershave. He zipped up the pair of tuxedo pants he’d borrowed from the caterer and winced. The pants were too short and so tight they looked like, well, tights.
Then he looked at Maddox and groaned. The suit he got fit him perfectly. ‘How is it that you look like James Bond and I’m in a tux made for a toddler?’
Maddox glanced at him and burst out laughing. ‘I got lucky, I guess.’ He twisted in the mirror, admiring himself.
Brett knew he should just take comfort in the fact that his plan had worked. He’d ridden over here with Maddox while the girls got ready. At the Country Club, they’d found a bunch of caterers standing outside the kitchen entrance, smoking. Two dudes named Jeffery and Tim had accepted the Patrón bottle eagerly, handing over their tuxes, and heading off on a golf cart, singing a hokey song in Spanish that Brett remembered from Señorita Florez’s class in ninth grade.
Maddox’s phone pinged, and Brett glanced at the message. We’re here, Seneca had texted.
The locker room exited into a long hall that was flanked on either side by plaques bearing the names of the winners of the Dexby Country Club Golf Invitational dating back to 1903. Outside were sweeping views of the golf course, the pool, and the tennis courts.
‘Why’s this party on a Tuesday, anyway?’ Brett asked as he hobbled, penguin-like, down the hall. It was kind of hard to breathe in these pants.
‘Because this weekend is the Easter Bunny party,’ Maddox answered. ‘It’s a huge deal on the Morgenthau Estate. You don’t dare schedule anything else the same weekend.’
Brett raised an eyebrow. ‘You going?’
Maddox shrugged. ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
‘Why not? I bet there will be some hot girls there …’
Maddox didn’t answer, but Brett could sense some internal squirming. ‘You having girl trouble?’
Maddox waved his hand. ‘You kidding?’
Brett grinned. ‘Have to fend ’em off with a stick, huh?’ Then he spied the girls at the end of the hall. ‘Whoa,’ he breathed.
Madison looked like a confection in her hot-pink dress and banana-yellow heels. And Seneca’s hair was up, showing off her big eyes, pointed chin, and high cheekbones. Without all her layers and denim and flannel, her legs looked longer, her arms sculptural. But Aerin … whoa. She was in the gold dress Brett had chosen, and her hair was swept up, revealing her long, slender neck.
Brett tried not to stare. He already thought Aerin was gorgeous, of course, but today, all dressed up, she seemed … older. More interesting. Crazy sexy. The kind of girl you didn’t just flirt with but seriously pursued. He plucked a rose from a vase and handed it to her wordlessly.
Aerin twirled it between her fingers. ‘Well, well. I feel like I’m in The Bachelor.’
Seneca was giving Brett a strange look. ‘What’s with your pants?’
Madison giggled, too. ‘They look like leggings.’
‘I know, I know, I look like a freak,’ Brett groaned, irritated. His wardrobe malfunction was a buzzkill. ‘Can we just go up now?’
The group tromped up a back staircase that emptied into a dining room. Brett pulled up the rear, trying to come to grips with his sudden rush of emotion for Aerin. Keep your head on straight, he told himself. This had happened before – he’d fallen head over heels, got his feelings hurt. He needed to backpedal. Take a breath.
At the top of the stairs was a huge foyer crammed with people. The women were all in cocktail dresses or lavish gowns; the flashing white smiles and glitter of diamonds were blinding. In the middle of the group was a face made familiar from hours of staring at the news reports. Kevin Larssen was taller than Brett had expected from his pics online, his weak jaw belied by calculating ice-blue eyes. In the span of four seconds, he swiftly kissed an older, stately woman’s cheek, pumped the hand of a silver-haired guy with a potbelly, and gave a younger woman an enormous hug. And still his eyes scanned the room hungrily.
Seneca strode up to a table and selected three glasses of champagne, handing one each to Aerin and Madison. ‘Where’s Macie Green?’ she whispered, referring to Kevin’s fiancée. Madison had filled them in on Macie this afternoon: she was a soft-contact-lens heiress from Dexby, graduated top of her class at her boarding school and at Middlebury, showed champion Irish wolfhounds on the weekends, blah, blah, blah.
‘There.’ Brett pointed to a tall, willowy blonde who’d approached Kevin’s side. Macie had a long face and small ears, and she smiled without teeth. Her silver dress seemed tailored to perfection, and her huge diamond engagement ring sparkled in the lights. Her body was turned away from Kevin’s, and she was talking animatedly to an older lady in enormous pearls.
Brett felt Seneca watching Macie, too. The party was so loud, suddenly, and he shifted until he was next to the girls. ‘Hey,’ he whispered. Seneca looked up. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have googled you. And I definitely shouldn’t have brought up what happened. I didn’t mean for –’
‘I know,’ Seneca cut him off, but her eyes were forgiving. ‘It’s okay.’ Brett felt like she meant it. He looked at her searchingly, wishing he could say more, wishing he could just undo that moment entirely, but then someone poked his shoulder. ‘Buddy.’
A woman with broad shoulders, frizzy hair, and a unibrow glared at him. A brass nametag on her tuxedo jacket said Sandy. ‘I’m not paying you to stand around ogling the guests, Jeff,’ she hissed. ‘Get your tray and start circulating.’
Brett gazed at Sandy, rapidly assessing. She looked like a tired, overworked older lady who probably needed a good foot rub and a compliment. He gave her a salute. ‘You got it. Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Anjelica Huston? A younger version, of course.’
Sandy’s frown cracked just a teensy bit. ‘I have to admit I don’t mind her – and I hate most celebrities.’ She seemed to think for a moment, then leaned his way conspiratorially. ‘Tell Doris I said to give you Martinis. They’re much easier to unload than canapés.’
The kitchen was filled with busy prep cooks and sous chefs and hazy with steam. Brett sauntered in and gathered his Martini tray. Maddox was behind him as they swirled into the ballroom again. A few girls checked Maddox out with interest. He gave them friendly but slightly standoffish smiles.
Brett skirted around a massive table filled with raw shrimp and oysters, passing a group of women who were talking about getting Botox in their vaginas – wha-what? Then he spied Kevin in a back room, leaning up against a mahogany bar. A bunch of guys were around him; Brett recognized quite a few from the Connecticut Youth group photos he’d seen online. Heart quickening, he sauntered up to them, careful not to spill any of the Martinis.
Kevin was busy talking. ‘They’re thinking I’ll have a good shot at state senate, so we’ll see. I’ve got really great people working on the campaign, and –’
‘Martini?’ Brett interrupted.
Kevin shrugged and took one. ‘Yeah, sure.’ He shot Brett a tight smile and took a tiny sip. Then he put the drink on the bar.
Brett cleared his throat. ‘You should drink that while it’s still cold,’ he said smoothly. ‘The chill brings out the flavor in the vodka.’
Kevin took another obligatory swig, then switched to telling a story about a camping trip he and the others had taken early senior year. Brett listened for a mention of Helena’s name, but it sounded like it had been a guys-only thing. Even as Kevin talked, his gaze was still scanning the room like he was looking for someone.
The attitude was infectious; Brett swiveled around the room, too, searching for Aerin. She had broken away from Madison and Seneca and was standing next to a petite, dark-haired girl holding a drink. The girl whispered something and pointed at a guy near the shrimp bar, and Aerin rolled her eyes. Brett followed their gaze, trying to figure out who the guy was. He seemed like a completely average high-school dude, with a jutting chin and a prominent Adam’s apple. Brett could totally take him.
He picked up his tray again and presented Martinis to a blonde who was definitely underage, an old woman dripping in diamonds and using a walker, and a beefy dude he swore was wearing a Super Bowl ring. He found Maddox across the room, swarmed with people wanting drinks. ‘Take a load off,’ he advised him after they were gone, gesturing to an empty table for him to place his tray.
Maddox set his tray down and blew air through his cheeks. Brett leaned against the wall and assessed the crowd. ‘This is like a who’s who of Dexby, huh?’
‘Yep,’ Maddox said. ‘You know anyone?’ Brett looked at him blankly. ‘Some of these people probably live in Greenwich,’ Maddox added.
Brett shook his head. ‘I’ve been out of that scene for a while. But I wish I knew her.’ He pointed at Macie Green. ‘I love me some icy blondes.’
They watched as Macie coolly selected a prosciutto-wrapped melon slice from a roving tray and glided into Kevin’s room. Kevin, who was making a good dent in that Martini, nodded at Macie and murmured something in her ear, his brow furrowed. Macie abruptly turned and retreated. There was a sheepish look on her face, as though he’d told her she’d forgotten to shave her armpits. Brett’s insides soured. When it came to how to treat women, some guys just didn’t get it.