Ultimate Concealer, A Toni Diamond Mystery: A Toni Diamond Mystery (Toni Diamond Mysteries) (21 page)

“I’m sure you’re wrong, honey. I know this guy.”

And she knew Dwayne. “Why did you leave the chips in a bowl in your drawer? Why didn’t you cash them in right away?”

He shook his head. “They made me promise to wait two months. Something about chip inventory. I didn’t completely get it.”

“And yet you gave your daughter these chips.”

He shrugged. “I figured playing one or two wouldn’t mess up their inventory.” He tried a grin on her. “And what’s the point of having money if you can’t spend it on your family?”

“But it wasn’t money. It was stolen property.”

“No. You’ll see—”

“I tell you what else. You’ll never see those chips. There are no chips. That thirty thousand is gone, my friend.”

He started to bluster but she had a feeling he knew she was right.

“Tell me again how you got into Grant Forstman’s safe?”

“I told you. He left his wallet—”

She cut him off. “The truth this time.”

He shifted on the chair, looking around the restaurant as though somebody might rescue him. No one did.

She leaned closer. “Do you want me to get you off this murder charge?”

“That money’s got nothing to do—”

“I think it does.” In fact, things were starting to fall into place. Finally. “Who gave you the combination?”

He licked his lips. “Loretta.”

Exactly as she’d thought. “And she gave you the combination to her husband’s safe and told you to help yourself to his money out of the goodness of her heart?”

“No. She wanted me to get her something out of the safe, too.”

“What?”

Toni, that’s private. I can’t tell you—”

“What did you get out of the safe for Loretta?”

“Forstman’s life insurance policy.”

Bingo.

“Did she tell you why she wanted it?”

“She was afraid he might redeem it for the cash value. She thought it would be safer if she kept it.”

She felt the blood drumming in her head. She leaned closer.

“You stole money from the murder victim, lost it all in a scam, and you were having an affair with the dead man’s wife. They should put you away and throw away the key.”

“But I didn’t kill him.”

“Not for murder, Dwayne, for stupidity.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Smells are surer than sounds and sights to make heartstrings crack.”

— Rudyard Kipling

Dwayne left soon after and she took a few minutes to put together pieces of a puzzle that wasn’t fitting perfectly. It was like one of those puzzles that contain five hundred pieces of sky but the last chunk of blue wasn’t fitting the pattern.

She walked back to collect her car and on her way called her mom.

“What’s up?” Linda asked immediately. “Why are you trying to get rid of me and Tiff?”

“Is she there?”

“No. If she was here I’d speak in code.”

Linda’s idea of code wouldn’t fool a toddler. She did things like spell out words instead of saying them.

“Tiffany needs to get back to school,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. It was the truth. One of the reasons she wanted her daughter and her mother gone. Not the primary one, but one of them.

Linda sensed that she was holding out. There was a slight pause and then her mom said, “Right. Plus you’re trying to protect her.”

She was, but how did her mom know?

Then Linda finished her thought. “From seeing what a dickhead Dwayne is.”

She thought back to the way her daughter had seen her father take the phone number of that woman after the show and the fact that she’d been sleeping over at the hotel. “I think she is figuring it out, but it’s hard for her to have to witness his antics firsthand.”

“Sure. I get that. But why aren’t you coming back with us?”

She needed to get Linda and Tiff out of town before either of them heard about that second murder. “Because I promised Tiff I’d do my best to keep her father from going to jail for murder.” She paused. “Plus, I have to keep an eye on him since I put up my house as collateral for his bail.”

“I don’t know, Toni. I don’t like leaving you here. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Please. I want Tiffany back at school and seeing her friends again. Frankly, I want her far away from Dwayne, too.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Linda agreed. “Tiff’s in the shower. I’m just ordering some more product for the boys—”

“More product? Their dressing room won’t be big enough,” she said with utter admiration at her mother’s sales abilities.

Linda giggled. “I know. But they had no idea of proper skin care. I think they’re going to be a lot happier now. And, of course, the way they go through makeup, they are going to be great customers for life.”

Even the grimness of Buddy’s murder couldn’t stop her from feeling happy for her mom or from congratulating her.

“So, I’ll pack up, you come and get us, and we can go to Brent’s house and get Tiffany’s stuff, plus I can drop off the product for the boys.”

“Sounds good.”

“And how about you? Did Loretta Forstman like her product?”

Toni could still smell the mingled scents of Loretta and Dwayne. “I think she liked my ex-husband a whole lot better.”

“Oh, mercy, she was not.”

“Oh, mercy, she was so.”

Her mother’s voice changed and the volume went up. “Hi, Tiffany. I’m on the phone with your mom.” Toni heard mumbling coming from the phone and then Linda was back, her voice dropped back to almost a whisper. Guaranteed to grab Tiffany’s interest. “And don’t worry about that other thing. One of these days, DDD will get what’s coming to him.”

Before her mother could say another word, Toni said, “Okay, I’m on my way.”

She retrieved the car and drove back to the hotel. When she got there, Linda was still packing. Tiffany was staring at the TV, which she’d flipped to one of the music video stations. She scowled at her mother. “How come I have to go home?”

The fact that her daughter was complaining that she had to go home and not arguing that she shouldn’t be forced to told Toni that her daughter was really happy to be heading back home. But, naturally, she had to put on the front. It was expected.

So, Toni played her role as best she could. She put a hand on her hip, and said, “Because you’ve already missed too much school and I am putting my foot down. You’re dad agrees with me.” In fact, when she’d told him at the fast food place that she was taking Tiffany home he’d looked pretty relieved. He was clearly realizing that having a teenaged daughter in town was putting a crimp in his sex life.

“Fine.” She rose and slapped off the TV. “Is he going to be home?”

“I don’t think so. He was headed back to the Double Nugget last I heard. He wanted to rehearse a new song.”

“But I’ll get to say goodbye to him, right?”

“Yes. Sure. He’s going to come to the airport to say good-bye.” Even if she had to haul him out of Loretta’s bed and drag him there personally.

“I have to say good-bye to Brent, too. He’s at work still.”

“You can write him a note.”

“Really? Mother? A note?”

“Trust me, it’s more polite than email. Brent understands you have to get back to school. Everyone does.”

She dug out the notebook she carried everywhere. She flipped through, looking for a blank page to rip out and give to Tiff.

All her recent ideas were in there, a few lists of things she needed to accomplish as soon as she was back home, the notes she’d made about Grant Forstman’s murder, some jotted assignments for Tiffany.

The book fell open to the notes she’d jotted down when she’d last been able to have a conference call with her top team members. That had been the very day Dwayne Diamond had called her from out of a clear blue sky looking for money.

They’d both got more than they’d bargained for.

She wished all she had to worry about was making up some fun cards to improve morale. Instead she was trying to prove her ex-husband wasn’t a murderer while the real murderer had struck again.

She looked at the slogans.

“When I put on enough makeup I feel like I’m someone else.”

She felt as though pins were pricking every inch of her skin as she stared at those words.

“Mom? Mom!” Tiffany stood with her hand out. “Paper?”

Her brain was turning faster than one of those slot machines Linda was so fond of, patterns forming, reforming, so she couldn’t keep anything straight.

Finally, the whirring stopped and as though she had a readout in front of her, that might or might not pay out, she knew what she had to do.

“Honey, I just remembered, I’ve got to pick something up. Why don’t you help Grandma finish her packing? I’ll pick you up a nice note card that says thank you on it. A torn piece of notepaper isn’t the Diamond way.

Her daughter looked at her as though she was crazy, but that was how her daughter looked at her most of the time so Toni wasn’t worried. “Whatever.”

She went back and flipped the TV back on. She didn’t even notice that Toni palmed Brent’s house key, the one he’d lent her so she could come and go from his house.

What she needed to do now, she needed to do alone.

Please let me be wrong about this, Toni said to herself as she parked in front of Brent’s house. If anyone asked, she was here to pack up Tiffany’s belongings. She also had a little side business that she was keeping to herself.

She could be in and out in thirty minutes, before Brent or Dwayne returned home. Then she’d scoop up her mother and daughter and have them at the airport in plenty of time for their evening flight.

She might even be on that flight with them. Everything depended on whether her hunch was correct.

Toni rang the bell in case anyone was home, but the echo of the bell died away and no one came to the door. She used the key to let herself in and called out, “Anybody home?”

Nothing but silence greeted her.

She stepped in, closed the door behind her. She stood for a moment and listened. Nothing. She could smell the faintest hint of Lady Bianca face cream.

She walked through the empty rooms. At Dwayne’s bedroom she hesitated, then knocked on the closed door. No answer. She opened it and confirmed that he was out. His guitar was gone too, so presumably he was at the casino working on his act. Or crooning love songs to some woman, somewhere, who ought to know better.

She peeked next into the guest room where Tiff had been staying. Fortunately, most of Tiff’s stuff was at the hotel. What little was left would take her about ten minutes to pack.

She took a deep breath. The best way to get through a difficult task, she always told her new recruits, was to put a big smile on your face and power through it. That might work with cold calling and friendly fishing, but for what she was about to do, she thought she could forgo the big smile.

She pulled her cell phone out of her bag, clicked to camera mode. Headed to Brent’s bedroom. There was a part of her that felt truly bad invading Brent’s privacy this way, but she needed to know the truth.

Her footsteps were silent on the thick rug. She got to Brent’s door. Knocked.

Nothing.

She opened the door and called his name softly, but there was no answer. She could sense the emptiness in the room. With a quick pep talk to herself, she flipped on his bedroom light and stepped inside.

Her mother had told her that his bedroom made the living room appear tame, but she’d assumed Linda was exaggerating.

She hadn’t been.

Her first thought was of an ice palace. Everything was white and glittered. Huge mirrors, a white shag rug, a king sized bed with a white satin bedspread, a silver headboard and so many sequined pillows they made her eyes hurt.

The walls were pure white, the molding silver. Enormous black and white photographs dominated the white walls. A showgirl posing in the sixties she’d guess from the clothing worn by the patrons.

When she opened the double closet doors lights immediately illuminated the largest walk-in closet she had ever seen. A short rack on the left held the somewhat meager and entirely dull wardrobe of Brent Hodgkin, CPA.

Every other inch of space was devoted to Sunny. Gowns, headdresses, an entire mirrored dresser for wigs. Rack upon rack of shoes.

She smelled powder and the faint scent of perfume almost like an echo from an earlier time.

The gowns were luscious, glittering things, most of them carefully stored in individual garment bags.

Her heart was pounding and she felt a shiver of claustrophobia as she walked deeper into the closet.

Black. She only wanted to look at the black outfits.

His system wasn’t to put like colors together, but to assemble gowns that would be worn for similar purposes.

Over-the-top show gowns together. Evening gowns together. Street clothes, if any of it could be classified as street clothes, together.