The first woman who fit my criteria for being a possible mark of Beau’s was CeeCee Green, a rich divorcee who had gone through three or four husbands. She’d ended each marriage, however short, better off financially than she’d been before.
I’d met her a few times, but none of our interactions had been of the ugly variety. In fact, at the auto show one year, she told me she appreciated my moxie when I explained to the Chevrolet representative that all cars looked alike to me. He’d been apoplectic, and she’d been amused. After that, she made a point of greeting me at the few events where we’d crossed paths.
I’d never been to her home. I was struck by the opulence of the marble fountain in front of the mansion. If I had to guess, the fountain cost more than the home I shared with Eliot, which was already worth four times more than the house I’d had in Roseville before we moved in together.
I pounded on the door. The woman who opened it was not CeeCee, though they did share an austere presence that would’ve been better suited for a horror movie set in an all-girls’ school in upstate New York than a lake community in Michigan.
“May I help you?” She stared over the rim of her glasses. She took extra time to read my shirt, which featured a cat sitting on a skull and read “Ew, people.” For once — and only once — I realized why Fish had such a problem with my clothing choices. “I think you must be lost.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m in the correct place,” I countered, forcing a smile. “My name is Avery Shaw. I’m a reporter with The Monitor. I was hoping to have a few moments of Ms. Green’s time.”
The woman — she didn’t look like a maid as much as a female butler — raised an eyebrow. “And you think Ms. Green has time to simply see people off the street?”
“It’s very important.” I refused to back down. “Just tell her I’m here. I’m certain she’ll want to see me.”
“Are you?” The woman was dubious but raised a finger. “You are to remain out there. I’ll return shortly.”
“I look forward to it. You seem like tons of fun.”
She shut the door in my face. After what felt like a really long time — it was only five minutes — she returned and ushered me inside. “Ms. Green will see you in the parlor.”
“Thank you.”
“You are not to touch anything as we make our way through the house.”
“Trust me, I have no interest in stealing anything. Unless ....” Something occurred to me and I brightened. “Rich people buy useless stuff. Swarovski has these Star Wars helmet things — Boba Fett and Darth Vader — and they’re made of crystals. CeeCee doesn’t have one of those, does she? I would totally steal those.”
The woman didn’t respond, instead leading me briskly through the enormous house. The parlor she showed me into was bigger than the entire first floor of my house, though one glance told me I was better off. There was a cold austerity to the room, no warmth or cozy welcome. I immediately hated it, but I put on a good show when I realized CeeCee was watching me from a settee.
“Your house is great,” I enthused. It wasn’t a lie. The house was beautiful. It simply wasn’t the sort of place I would want to live in. “Do you have a Starbucks here?”
CeeCee sat in a pale pink suit, sipping tea from what looked to be expensive china. “Why would I have a Starbucks here?”
I shrugged. “I read somewhere that Tommy Lee had his own Starbucks. If I were really rich, that’s what I would do. I would build a Starbucks and hire someone to make me lattes all day.”
“Yes, well, it’s something to consider.” CeeCee’s gaze reflected amusement as she sipped her tea again. This time I recognized her look of amusement was aimed at another woman, one I hadn’t immediately seen upon entering the room.
While CeeCee was blond — the sort of blond you get from a bottle and never lose — this woman had red hair that looked as if it was held in place by gallons of Aqua Net.
“I’m sorry,” I offered. “I didn’t realize you were entertaining guests.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” CeeCee offered up a haphazard wave. “This is Janet Olsen. She’s one of my oldest friends.”
I recognized the name. Janet Olsen was the daughter of one of the biggest Mercedes dealership owners in the state. She wasn’t quite as rich as CeeCee, but she clearly wasn’t hurting. “I think we’ve met a time or two,” I said. “I remember a charity event for Turning Point in particular.”
Janet nodded in agreement. “I know who you are. You have quite the reputation in our little corner of the world.”
“I like to make an impression.”
“And you do in spades,” CeeCee said. “I thought about reaching out to you a few weeks ago, during that whole Tad Ludington affair. I worried you might go to prison for doing us all a favor and shooting that menace.”
“I didn’t shoot Tad. I was innocent.”
“You’re many things,” CeeCee countered. “Innocent is not one of them. That’s one of the reasons I like you.”
“Yeah, well ....” I decided to redirect the conversation to my true purpose for being there. “So, I came for a specific reason. I need to know if you’re familiar with Beau Burton.”
CeeCee’s eyebrows hopped and Janet sucked in a breath. The reactions were enough to tell me I was on the right track.
“Why would you be asking about him?” Janet asked, shrill. “He was a monster.”
“I’m well aware.” I shot her a placating smile. “That’s why I came here. My understanding is that Beau Burton made the rounds in your circle several years ago.”
“That’s one way of putting it,”
