Eyeliner & Alibis Read online

The man looked around the store and I followed his eyes. He stared at a pretty abstract piece in the corner.

  “That painting right there perhaps?” I questioned.

  The man’s eyes snapped back to mine and I smiled. I had him and he knew it.

  “Who should we call? Detective Blackwell? Do you know her?”

  “Fine, take the necklace and get out of here. Don’t ever come back.” The man tossed the necklace across the counter and I caught it with one hand.

  “Trust me, not a problem.”

  We were out of there a second later.

  “Babe, that was hot.” I rolled my eyes at Finn, but accepted his hand.

  “So, riddle me this, Batman, how the heck did my necklace get there?” I asked him on our walk back to the truck.

  “I have no clue. I’m just glad you got it back.”

  “I know, me too, but I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. Do you think the two events are connected?” I tended to work things out in my head but didn’t always explain them to others as clearly.

  Finn’s brows gathered. “Which two?”

  “The person who stole my necklace, and the one I saw creeping around Marissa’s dressing room Saturday morning.”

  “The what? You didn’t tell me anything about this.”

  “Wait, what?” I couldn’t believe that I had forgotten to tell Finn about DSC’s very own cat burglar. I gave him a quick rundown of what I had seen.

  “I forgot to ask Brad if anything had been stolen, particularly of the jewelry variety, off Marissa’s body.”

  “Are you thinking whoever murdered Marissa came back Saturday morning for evidence?”

  “Not evidence. Jewelry. A gorgeous diamond necklace.”

  It turned out the best part of breaking up was indeed making up, which we did that night. A lot. I smiled at my sleeping beau, with his messy blond bedroom hair and his body wrapped up in the only sheet left on the bed, and tiptoed off for a shower. We decided that our first order of business would be to visit Sterling’s wife. With her, I was braced for the unexpected. Whoever would barge into a place of business and accuse someone of murder might not have a grip on their emotions. I had no idea if she had worked through that anger or if Finn and I were going to walk right into it.

  Now that Finn and I were back together, I had access to my original wardrobe. I toweled off and stepped into my off-the-shoulder black and red flowered dress that I had originally worn when arriving to DSC’s studios. I pulled my hair up into a messy twist and wore a simple pair of diamond studs in my ears, and my cross was back safely around my neck. I wanted to look professional yet approachable. Finn was already dressed and just about ready to go when I stepped back out into the room. He had opted for the same tan shorts and his white short-sleeved button down from yesterday. All he needed to do was brush his teeth. Men had it so easy.

  “What?” Finn looked at me as I assessed his wardrobe.

  “Just debating the unfairness of our genders.”

  He nodded in agreement. “It is quite unfair, but I do like it when you get all done up.” Finn stood behind me and bent to nibble on my ear.

  “Stop it! We need to go. Now!” Truthfully, he probably could’ve persuaded me to stay a little while longer, but I really didn’t want to have to redo my makeup.

  Sterling’s oceanside home was situated in South Tampa. The Spanish-style home featured impressive archways, wrought iron and dark wood accents, and a red brick driveway dotted with palm trees. I could have lived there, for sure.

  Finn accompanied me to the door and I rang the bell. It took Mary Jane less than a minute to answer. She acted like a perfectly sane individual by saying hello and smiling. I took that as a good sign. Once again, I was struck by how beautiful she was. Even with her red-rimmed eyes and makeup-free face, she had the look of natural beauty that my clients coveted. I wondered in that moment why Sterling had strayed. I couldn’t help but ponder the details of their marriage. Of course, I wasn’t about to ask a grieving widow about that, but if anyone—like the network’s chatty receptionist—wanted to dish on it, I would gladly listen. Mary Jane looked at me expectantly and it took me a minute to find my manners. “I’m sorry. My name is Ziva Diaz, and this is my boyfriend, Finn.” Finn smiled at me all funny-like when I introduced him that way. It took forever for me to get used to the title. Even now I didn’t use it all that often, but I had already made up my mind that that was about to change.

  “I’m,” I tried to find a way to say this politely, “I’m the one who found your husband’s body on the beach. Can we come inside and talk to you for a minute?”

  Mary Jane hesitated for a moment before holding the door open and inviting us in.

  The house looked busy, with other family members milling around. In the front sitting room, a group of people congregated around photo albums and shoeboxes full of photos. A man, who appeared to be in his forties, was busy scanning photos into a flash drive for what I assumed would be the slideshow for the funeral.

  “I’m sorry, I should’ve realized you’d be busy with family. We can come back later.” I looked to Finn for confirmation and he was seconding what I had just said.

  “MJ, who is it?” the man in the living room asked.

  “Just some friends.” MJ looked over her shoulder and waved him off before turning back to us and saying, “No, that’s okay. I have some questions for you, too.” We followed MJ down the tiled floor into her kitchen. The Spanish style flowed throughout the house with the use of warm tones and bright pops of color, like the blue accent tiles on the backsplash. The kitchen table was teeming with plates of cookies and appetizers, fruit baskets, and flowers. It appeared that the well-wishers had been paying their condolences in full force. I eyed the lilies on the counter and prayed they wouldn’t make my allergies kick in.

  “Tea?” MJ asked.

  “No, I’m good, thank you,” I replied.

  “Here, let me get that for you.” Finn took the red kettle from MJ and filled it with water and then placed it on the gas stove’s back burner.

  “Like I said, I’m really sorry to just show up like this,” I said.

  “That’s okay. Honestly, we’re all just waiting around here for news. The police haven’t told me much.”

  “I know, Detective Blackwell—”

  “—is not a nice woman,” MJ finished for me. “Not very sensitive, anyway.” MJ shuddered and I could only imagine what the detective had accused her of.

  “Don’t worry. It’s not just you. She came on pretty hard with me too, well, us,” I said, motioning to Finn.

  “Why you?”

  “Because, not only did I find your husband’s body, but Marissa’s as well, and Finn was with me for part of it.”

  “I can’t even imagine.” I nodded my head to acknowledge her statement.

  “Anyway, let’s just say I haven’t been impressed with Detective Blackwell and I want to make sure that justice is served, to allow your husband to rest in peace,” I said.

  MJ got all teary eyed and blew out a breath to steady herself. I looked uncomfortably at Finn. He knew crying gave me the heeby jeebies.

  “Thanks for that. This whole thing is just so … well, I’m not sure which emotion to lead with. I loved my husband, so very much.” And with that statement, a tear did slip down her cheek. I looked frantically for a tissue to put the kibosh on that. Finn beat me to it.

  “Thank you.” MJ took another deep breath and said, “So, what did you want to know?”

  “I don’t want to be insensitive, but I’m trying to make sense of what happened.”

  “No, I understand. We all want answers. If you’re going to ask me about Marissa, the answer is I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t know he was seeing her?” I thought Finn worded their relationship nicely, given the way Tess had described it to me.

  “Right. I knew he was impressed by her, just based off dinner table conversation. He was excited about work again. He had grown tire
d of Tess years ago and was looking forward to something new. He seemed happy, recharged.”

  “He was, for sure, staying with the network?” I knew Tess had said he was, but wasn’t sure if she knew what she was talking about. She wasn’t necessarily thinking clearly.

  “Oh yes. He had just renewed his contract for another three years.”

  “And he thought he would be working with Marissa?” Finn asked.

  “He seemed sure of it. Why?”

  “Well, another girl was hired the same time as Marissa, a girl named Claire,” I said. I watched MJ search her memory for a moment and decided to help her out. “Kind of petite, long red hair?”

  “No, I don’t think I know her,” she supplied.

  So, we knew that Sterling’s contract had been renewed and that he had been planning on working with Marissa. I filed that information away.

  “You were at the gala Friday night, weren’t you?” I wanted to see if her answer matched what I already knew.

  “Yes, of course. I try and make it every year. It’s so great the way the network gives back to the community. I know the agencies that receive the donations are very appreciative.

  “Did anything seem off with your husband?” I was still trying to work out the whole murder-suicide angle, but I didn’t want MJ to know that.

  “Nothing that stands out. We met some friends for a couple of Manhattans and then had our driver drop us off at DSC. In fact, Sterling was in a wonderful mood. His famous charm was on full display. We were having a wonderful time. It wasn’t until we were all ushered into the ballroom, and word got around that Marissa had been murdered, that he became upset. I had never seen my husband so distraught before. I thought it was because of the manner of her death and her being a good friend of his. I hadn’t expected the full truth.” Her eyes lowered.

  “When did you find out?” Finn asked.

  “That they were having an affair? From Entertainment Now.” My heart sank for the poor woman. “That Cee Cee Thomas came knocking on my door, asking for a statement. I had no idea what she was talking about until I turned on the TV and watched the coverage for myself.”

  Ouch.

  “What do you think happened?” I asked.

  MJ was lost in thought, but my question snapped her back to the present. “I think Dr. Stewart killed them.” Her misty eyes turned sharp, and I saw a flash of the anger that I knew simmered just below the surface.

  “Can I ask why you’re so set on it being him?”

  “If not him, then who? My Sterling certainly wasn’t involved.” I loved the way she referred to her husband as “My Sterling,” as if he had been the model spouse. She was protective of him, nonetheless, and I was sure she wouldn’t be too pleased to know what I was thinking, which was that her husband killed himself in desperation. Having been dumped cold by Marissa and faced with the monotony of life, he just couldn’t stand it anymore. It might sound like a bit of a stretch, but it was the best I had. Hopefully Finn’s hacking buddy would give us some evidence to go off of.

  “Dr. Stewart is a man of many talents. Holding his temper isn’t one of them. I’ve seen his anger explode a time or two, and it’s not pretty.” MJ’s comment caught my attention. I saw a glimpse of something when I confessed to the doctor about my true intentions for the office visit, but I hadn’t been able to quite put my finger on it. Maybe that was it. I thought about directing a lot of questions back toward Dr. Stewart and why MJ specifically suspected him, but I knew what her answer would probably be: the money, the anger, his reputation. I had heard the motives delivered in the media, sounding like a broken record. I wondered how the doctor with the kind eyes was holding up.

  MJ never picked up on my train of thought, and I wasn’t about to clue her in. She was clearly set in her theory, which also meant that Sterling hadn’t left a suicide note lying around, or one that she would tell me about. I had a fervent desire to search their house, but I had no idea how I would pull that off, not with family milling around.

  I excused myself to go to the restroom, figuring that was as good as it would get, but I wasn’t expecting to find much. It wasn’t like there would be a suicide note in the bathroom vanity. However, what I did find was enough beauty creams and lotions to stock the shelves of my store for weeks, in addition to some vials of off-brand Botox and the woman’s own personal selection of needles. I was wrong. MJ’s beauty wasn’t as natural as it appeared to be. She was clearly vested in her appearance. I imagine living life in the limelight, one had to be. I had never had a desire to be famous, and I clearly did not possess one now.

  Finn had picked up the conversation in my absence, and I heard him asking MJ about what part of upstate New York she was from. Apparently, my beau had spent some time there in his youth.

  “That’s an awesome photo,” Finn was saying as I rejoined them. A few of MJ’s family members had gathered in the kitchen and brought a stack of photos with them. I scooted next to Finn and looked over his shoulder. “Wow, that is beautiful. Where is that? Niagara Falls?”

  “Have you ever been there?” Finn asked me.

  “No, can’t say I have, but I’ve always wanted to go. They look breathtaking.”

  “We’ll have to change that,” Finn said with a wink as he flipped to the next photo. It was one of MJ in a white silk slip dress, little stephanotises braided into her long blonde hair. Sterling’s arm was linked with hers, he in a cream-colored suit and barefoot just like her. It was their wedding photo. From the condition of the 4 x 4 photo, I guessed it was circa 1970-something. It was a candid shot of the two walking, looking at each other.

  I didn’t call the photo out to MJ. Personally, I thought the change in conversation had been good for her. Some color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes were now completely dry. I didn’t want to loop her back into depression.

  “You about ready?” I asked Finn.

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  We were getting ready to take leave when MJ turned to me. “And Ziva?” I had forgotten that she had wanted to ask me something as well. “This is probably inappropriate, but I was just wondering, well, if you could tell me anything about Sterling. The police have kept all the details away from me and I just want to make sure that he … looked okay.” I stared at the woman, unsure of how to respond. Saying “I found your husband face down in the sand” didn’t seem like something that would’ve gone over well. I went with a generalization. “He looked okay. Nothing gruesome or anything like that. Honestly, I can’t even tell you how he died.”

  MJ nodded her head. “Thank you for that. The nightmares, I can’t quite explain what I’ve seen in my sleep.”

  I could understand. Sometimes the unknown was worse than the known. The mind could be cruel like that.

  “Well, that was depressing,” Finn said when we got back in his truck.

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to say that it’s a big fat negative on her being the killer.”

  “I’m in agreement with you there. The problem is, that’s the same conclusion I’ve come to after everyone I’ve interviewed.”

  “Who does that leave?” Finn asked.

  “I don’t know. It seems something is missing. Unless it’s just the whole murder-suicide thing after all. But without a suicide note, I’m not sure how to get Detective Blackwell to believe that, or even point the case in that direction. For Dr. Stewart’s case, I really hope the evidence leads that way. If there’s anything hinky found, it’s all going to fall on him.”

  18

  “Let’s take a break.”

  “What?” I was withdrawn and looked at Finn like he was crazy. How could we stop now?

  “It would do you good to step away for the afternoon.”

  I shifted my weight from foot to foot to think about it. “What type of break did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know, the beach?” I shook my head. No way was I relaxing on the beach right now. “Okay, not the beach. How about lunch, a little shoppi
ng, just you know, go back to what our original plans were for Saturday afternoon. A little us time.”

  “You hate shopping.”

  “For girlie things, but maybe there’s some cool stuff downtown.” I hadn’t had a chance to explore the downtown shopping district, and I had to admit that his idea had some appeal. I wasn’t sure we could salvage this vacation but it was worth a shot.

  We ended up eating at this little French bistro where every dish on the menu, make that “le menu,” had an accent in its title. It was a point-to-order kind of menu.

  “What looks good, babe?”

  I was leaning more toward wine and cheese pairings, seeing I’d just finished an enormous ice cream cone. I pointed a couple out to him.

  “Do you want to grab an appetizer to go with it?”

  “Yeah, we can do that.”

  Our waiter stopped by to take our order and my mouth dropped open when Finn started speaking in French. The waiter smiled in surprise, but switched from English to French with ease. Quite pleased with themselves, the two men conversed for a minute or two, laughing like old chums.

  Meanwhile, I shut my mouth to keep from looking like an idiot, and smiled politely as if I knew what they were saying. Finn switched back to English, “So the Fourme d’Ambert and Époisses for the cheese selection and the Terrine à la mode Landaus and gnocchi à la Parisienne for apps?” he asked me.

  “Sounds great.”

  “And a bottle of what? Burgundy?”

  “Perfect.” Honestly, I had no idea if that paired well with the meal, but the waiter pumped his head with approval, so it must have been a good choice.

  The waiter left us, and I looked at Finn like he had sprouted two heads. “You speak French?!” I asked when the waiter was out of earshot. “How did I not know this?”

  “One of my many talents.” I thought I knew all the man’s talents, but Finn had managed to surprise me yet again.

  The waiter brought out our first selection and my mouth melted with the first bite. He had me at Époisses. I’d snack on this “stinky” cheese any day. Especially if it was served with the same crunchy baguette and fig compote.