Maybe that was the evidence that Desiree wanted to buy.
Her father? He was trying to stick his own daughter with her wedding expenses. Desiree wouldn’t pay more money to save him.
No, it didn’t make sense. Desiree was the logical candidate for Kiki’s killer. She had endured a lifetime of her mother’s barbs until she finally cracked. She would convince herself she killed her mother to save her husband’s career, but she really did it for her own sanity.
What was it Desiree had said? Helen could feel it flitting through her mind. Desiree had been talking about her mother and Jason. “Mother laughed at him when he couldn’t, you know . . . perform. You remember the famous Sex on the Beach case, where that guy strangled his girlfriend because she laughed at him when he couldn’t do it?”
Jason and Kiki had been embarrassingly amorous at the church. Kiki had dragged him back there for kinky sex. She’d put on the rose dress and he’d been turned off.
So how did Desiree know her mother had laughed at Jason?
Because she went back to the church after the rehearsal dinner.
Helen stopped dead on the sidewalk, and a man behind her nearly walked up her back. “Hey, lady, put on your brake lights if you’re going to stop like that,” he said.
Helen ignored him.
Rod. She had to find Rod. The chauffeur would know. Helen was six blocks from the Blue Note. She turned in that direction, long legs eating up the sidewalk.
The Blue Note still looked the same. It would always look the same. A guy was sitting at the bar, drinking away his sorrows. Tonight it wasn’t Rod.
Helen put a twenty on the bar. “I need to find the chauffeur Rod. It’s important.”
The balding bartender took the money and looked at the clock. “If you can wait until nine thirty or so, he may stop by, but I can’t guarantee it.”
Helen ordered a beer. Twenty minutes later, a yellow stretch Hummer pulled up in front of the Blue Note. A uniformed chauffeur got out. It was Rod, a trimmer, happier Rod. He seemed delighted to see Helen. Rod sat down next to her and ordered a club soda and a burger with no fries and no onions.
“I’m working for a limo rental place,” Rod said. “I drive this hummer of a Hummer. Lotta parties. The folks who rent this baby make sure everybody’s happy, especially the chauffeur. They tip big-time. I take them to the clubs on South Beach. I usually stop here for a sandwich before work.” Rod didn’t mention his acting ambitions. He liked the role of South Beach chauffeur.
“Listen, Rod, I have to ask you a question,” Helen said. “I saw you right after Kiki’s will was read. You weren’t feeling too good.”
“Are you kidding? I was wasted.”
“That, too,” Helen said. “You said something I wondered about: ‘She’s an evil little woman. Looking all sad and talking all soft. Had me thinking about crazy stuff I never would have considered. Almost did it, too.’ Were you talking about Kiki?”
“Heck, no,” Rod said. “I was talking about Desiree. She’s one scary woman. Used to sit in that Rolls when her mother wasn’t around and work on me. She’d say, ‘Mother is worth thirty million and you’re making what?’
“She’d stop and give me time to think about it. Then she’d start up again: ‘You’re in the will, you know. But not for long. She’s trying out new chauffeurs on your day off.’
“She had this soft, sad little voice. It was like having a bad angel whispering in my ear. She looked so pathetic, I felt sorry for her. Desiree got me in such a state I actually thought about killing Kiki, until I came to my senses. You probably think I’m crazy.”
“No,” Helen said. “I saw Desiree at work. At the bridal shop, Kiki rejected Chauncey’s desperate plea for money for his theater. She humiliated him in front of everyone. Desiree slithered in and said the only way he could get his money was to kill her mother.”
“She tried to get poor old Chauncey?” Rod said. “He’d never hurt anyone. He just wanted to save his theater.”
“She worked on me, too,” Helen said. “She had me convinced Millicent killed Kiki. When I finally figured out my boss was innocent, I felt like I’d recovered from a fever.”
Rod’s burger arrived. The bartender set it on the counter with a napkin and ketchup. Rod ordered another club soda.
“That’s it,” Rod said. “That’s what it was like for me, too. I told you I admired Kiki. I may have been in love with her, or maybe it was just her money. But I never thought of killing her until Desiree started working on me.”
“Could she manipulate her mother?” Helen said.
“She could play head games with the devil himself. Kiki was mean, but it was all on the surface. Desiree is sly. She keeps her malice hidden.”
“Desiree went back to the church after the rehearsal dinner, didn’t she?” Helen said.
“She did. I brought her. Jason was there with Kiki when we arrived. The lights were on in the bride’s dressing room. Jason came down the stairs with his fly unzipped and his shirt unbuttoned. One look at his face and you could figure out what happened—or didn’t happen.
“Desiree saw it right away. She did a number on Jason, telling him if he was a real man, he’d stand up to her mother. Jason is eye candy. He’s not big on brains. He wants a theatrical career, but he doesn’t want to work for it. That’s why he let Kiki paw him in the first place. I tried to talk Jason into leaving, but he wouldn’t listen.
“When Jason wouldn’t budge, I tried to get Desiree to go with me. She said she wanted to ride with Jason. I made one last effort to get him out of there. He insisted on staying. He said he wanted to salvage the situation. I knew it was hopeless. I left them both. Kiki was still upstairs.
“I’ve felt guilty ever since. If I’d persuaded Jason or Desiree to leave with me, would Kiki still be alive?” He paused, waiting for something. Helen realized Rod wanted her to absolve him.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “Did you tell the police this?”
“No. I didn’t have any proof. Besides, someone else could have shown up later. The cops may catch whoever smothered Kiki, but they’ll never nail the real killer—
Rod drained his club soda and left some bills on the bar.
“Funny thing,” he said. “Desiree is about as sexy as my granny’s underwear, but she lives up to her name. She’s a real temptress.”
Chapter 26
Helen heard the footsteps behind her.
She looked over her shoulder and saw a tiny blonde in sky-high heels and a flirty skirt. The streetlights revealed she wasn’t as young as she first seemed.
Like Kiki.
The same lights drained the color from the woman’s face and painted her with spectral shadows. The wind brought her perfume—hothouse roses.
Helen knew it wasn’t Kiki. She was dead and buried in a rose-covered coffin.
“I thought you’d died,” a tinkly voice said.
Helen jumped.
“Sorry.” That was a deep baritone. “I had trouble parking the car.” A big man loped up beside the little blonde.
“Couldn’t you just pick it up and drop it in a parking spot?”
The man laughed at her outrageous flattery and the couple walked down the street arm in arm.
What the hell is the matter with me? Helen thought. Of course I saw Kiki. Fort Lauderdale has a hundred Kikis. Palm Beach has a thousand. When one dies, a dozen more take her place.
