A Veiled Deception Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘hot button’ that had caused his downfall. But from the near side of thirty, having been a grammar school glamazon sounded pretty damned, well, glamorous.
    “I hear you make your living taking in sewing,” he said, pen and notebook in hand.
    From glam to glum in twelve seconds. “I’m a designer, Lytton. In New York. With Faline.”
    “Who’s that? Your cat?”
    Four
    Disgraceful I know but I can’t help choosing my underwear with a view to it being seen.—BARBARA PYM, 1934
    In the midst of my scissor dance with the Wiener, Nick rubbed the side of his nose and cleared his throat.
    “Right, the investigation,” I said, understanding his amused reminder. But I still felt as if I was about to be strip-searched. Thank God for the designer label on my padded underwire and lucky panties.
    Lucky? Hah. I had now officially lost faith in pots of gold and “the pluck of the Irish.” “Sergeant Werner, you remember my father?”
    He nodded and shook my father’s hand. “I took one of your English classes. You failed me.”
    Wooly knobby knits! We wouldn’t catch a break if we kissed the Wiener on his toasted buns and welcomed him to the family. “And this is Fiona Sullivan,” I added, revealing none of my angst.
    Werner raised a brow, his expression filled with speculation. “Already decided you need a lawyer, did you?” He added to his notes. “One of the best . . . they say.”
    “No. No!” I said. “Aunt Fiona’s a family friend. She’s here because she hadn’t left the party, yet.”
    “She’s a friend but you call her ‘aunt’?”
    I sighed at the non-relevance but knew that my impatience would only make matters worse. “She was my mother’s best friend. We’ve always called her ‘aunt’, because she was there for us after Mom died.”
    “So the murder took place during a party,” Werner said, ignoring my explanation as if I’d asked the dumb question, “and nobody heard a scream? A scuffle? Anything?”
    All I could think about was the fact that we’d all heard Sherry’s threat. Everyone shook their heads, except for Nick. “Well,” he said, “I heard Maddie scream Jasmine’s name when she was trying to rouse her, but only because I was on my way up to find her.”
    “To find Jasmine, or Maddie?” Werner asked.
    “Maddie, of course.”
    “Of course.” Werner looked me in the eye. “So you found the body?”
    Why did he seem almost . . . entertained . . . by that? Payback?
    “Unfortunately,” I said.
    He hadn’t blinked since his gaze caught mine and held it captive. “I got the official FBI version,” he said, “now give me yours.”
    I told him everything that happened from the time I went into Brandy’s room. He asked who’d attended the party and we all answered at once with different names. He held up a hand. “Just give me the guest list.”
    We all looked at each other.
    “No guest list?” Werner said. “That’s convenient.”
    “It’s not convenient,” I snapped. “It’s small-town, last-minute, word-of-mouth informal: ‘Come and bring your brother’s girlfriend’s sister.’”
    “Funny,” Werner said to himself, head down, scribbling. “I didn’t get an invite, directly or indirectly.”
    I rolled my eyes.
    Werner raised his head in time to catch me. “Attorney Sullivan,” he said, not taking his gaze from me, “start a guest list. Put down everybody you remember, then pass it around so you can each add names that might have been missed. Bring it to the station in the morning when you come to give your official statements.”
    “Then what?” I asked.
    “Then I’ll bring in your party guests for questioning.”
    Scare tactics. He couldn’t question them in their own homes. A uniformed team came downstairs and spread through the house like fire ants at a picnic. I felt a hot sting at every door, drawer, or box they opened. They snooped into every corner, one going so far as to open my father’s humidor and smell his pipe