The Azalea Assault (20 page)

Recognition crossed her father’s face, and Cam felt momentarily stung.

“This crowbar accusation. It’s real, isn’t it?”

“I said it was Annie’s secret to tell, and it is, but it sounds like she meant to tell you—and as she’s not here…” He breathed deeply a few times, took a sip of coffee and a bite of doughnut, then scooped cherry filling out with his finger and licked it. Finally, he looked Cam in the eye. “When you were in Chicago, Annie thought she was in love. Probably she was in love. Do you remember?”

“Paul, right?”

“Paul. Paul lived in Lynchburg, but that isn’t so far, not like a really long-distance romance. They only could see each other weekends, but that was fine, too. She was working at that art gallery, the one that made her realize she wanted to
make
art, not manage art.”

Cam smiled. She remembered that much.

“He always came here, which Annie took for chivalry… It was all going pretty well. She thought he was getting serious and she was happy—and I was happy for her. She and I used to have supper every Thursday back then—that was Mother’s auxiliary night, remember?”

Cam nodded—her mother had had dozens of commitments.

“I think Annie was keeping an eye on me.” He looked at Cam knowingly.

Cam smiled. She loved that her friend would do that, and knew that had been the reason, though Cam hadn’t had to ask. Annie had always gotten along with Cam’s dad better than her own.

“Anyway, one weekend she decided to surprise him. She’d taken a timed picture of the two of them and blown it up—very artistic. She spent quite a bit of money having it framed. She decided to deliver it. She’d gotten his address from his driver’s license, which she had snuck out of his wallet just for the surprise, and she drove up there. When she arrived, he was putting a toddler in a car seat and
getting into the car with a woman. He didn’t see Annie, and Annie followed them, wondering what the explanation was. They spent a day at the zoo, I think.”

“Ouch. Things are falling into place.”

Her dad ignored her. “She waited all day—probably in a bar or pub, and then after dark, went back to Paul’s house and used a tire iron to smash the windshield of his car, yelling and screaming the whole time she did it. That made for a number of witnesses—neighbors who later reported she seemed quite insane and said they feared for their safety.

“Paul came out and there was a heated argument, during which Paul’s wife called the police. Annie was arrested.”

“And she called you?”

“I was glad she felt she could. I was outraged for her.”

Tears stung and Cam felt glad, too. “So what happened with it?”

“Paul agreed to drop charges if Annie agreed never to contact him or his wife again. It looks like he must have told his family she was a former, rather than a current, girlfriend.”

“Geez. Poor Annie! And Ian is Paul’s brother?”

“Seems that way.”

“But Annie didn’t kill him. Ian, I mean.”

“No. I wouldn’t think so. My Annie wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Then who did?”

“I wish I could help you, sunshine, but I don’t have that answer.”

T
alking to her dad had helped answer a number of questions about Annie, but it had also multiplied Cam’s desperation. She felt stronger than ever that she needed to help find the real killer, as the police seemed stubbornly determined to pin it on Nick or Annie, or at the moment, Nick
and
Annie.

Fortunately, based on the pictures she’d just had a peek at, she believed she had a new suspect. Evangeline Patrick had clearly been a victim of somebody’s perversion, and if that somebody was Jean-Jacques Georges, then there was an adequate motive for murder, by either Evangeline or somebody who felt protective of her. Cam almost wished she’d looked at the photos more carefully. She’d seen Evangeline climbing into the hot tub in one, standing at a window in a negligee in another. These had obviously been taken from the grounds, but she had no idea if Evangeline had actually posed for any of the shots or if the subsequent photos were even more risqué, as she’d been afraid to look further. Her guess was that Evangeline had been unaware they were being taken, but she couldn’t be sure.

The photos didn’t explain Ian’s murder. She doubted he’d been the one to take them. But they gave her enough to go on for the moment.

Cam intended to milk this situation, exploring it as if Evangeline were the murderer, after lunch. The conversation they’d begun the day prior was plenty of reason to keep going, but now Cam was armed.

Her father left to get back to his afternoon’s commitments, which included helping Petunia, and Cam wiped the table and cleaned the coffeepot. She then spent ten minutes pinching off the sticky buds of a rhododendron that was about half done for the year. She loved the bush; its coral-colored flower clusters cheered her, but the sticky task of deadheading had to be done in small doses or she’d saw it off at the base in frustration. Still, the mindless task did put her back in the right frame of mind, and she washed up and headed back to La Fontaine.

“C
am! I’m surprised to see you!” Evangeline said by way of greeting. “You know… everything has pretty much ceased here—no photographer and all.” Cam tried to convince herself Evangeline was hiding something, but she couldn’t quite buy it.

“I know.” Cam looked at Evangeline sadly, hoping to gain some sympathy. “I was hoping for maybe… an ear. Annie’s been arrested. Petunia’s a wreck.”

“Oh, honey, come on in. Giselle! Could we get a pot of tea in the drawing room?”

Evangeline took Cam’s hand to lead her up the stairs to the room where the party had been. The move made Cam feel like a creep, given she was hoping to prove Evangeline had committed murder. She decided to start with the topic where they’d left off the day before.

“I hope I’m not too forward,” Cam began.

“Oh, honey, I’ll just tell you if I don’t want to answer. Marrying one of the wealthiest men in a smaller town, when
I’m almost thirty years his junior—I’ve been asked pretty much everything.”

“I just want to protect my sister, and you seem to be the only one who knows anything about Nick besides her.” Cam felt queasy lying to someone who’d been so nice—and worse,
about
someone she loved—but it couldn’t be helped.

Evangeline leaned forward and grasped Cam’s hand, again surprising her with the affection.

“I don’t think your sister has anything to worry about. Jack… Nick’s a prince—one of the good guys.”

“But we got interrupted before I could find anything out. Just to reassure me? So he was in a band with you and Jean-Jacques…”

“The One-Eyed-Jacks. We played up and down the East Coast for a little over a year—opened for a couple mediocre bands, but mostly played bars. It was fun, until I learned Johnnie was sticking his hand in the till when he could. He bragged about it after a gig in Memphis. I told him he had to stop, and I thought he did. I thought it had only been for kicks and I’d set him straight. Then after a gig in Arlington we were finally busted. They searched our stuff and found the missing money, plus some vintage music paraphernalia, in Nick’s things. Johnnie was always smooth, and he’d been my friend for ten years by then. He convinced me Jack really did it—that Johnnie had stopped when I told him to, but he must not have been the only thief. I feel terrible for believing him.”

Cam started from a sort of daze when she heard Evangeline sniff. The emotion was clearly real.

“So Nick went down,” Evangeline continued.

“Did you tell the police that? Now, I mean?”

Evangeline hunched her shoulders and cringed, a guilty look, Cam thought. “I guess I thought it looked like a motive for murder, so no.”

“And you really know Nick never did it?”

“Johnnie and I were having drinks a year or two later—he was Jean-Jacques by then—Samantha had bought him a fancy camera. He bragged about what he’d done to Jack, as
if it were all a big laugh! He acted like we’d framed him together. I was furious!”

“What did you do?”

“I wrote a letter—said I had new evidence, but it was hearsay—not admissible. When Nick got out, though, I felt like I had amends to make. He crashed at my place for a while, until he got a job. I was back in Roanoke by then. Jean-Jacques got a couple impressive gigs, and he even sent me money he said was for Jack—that Jack wouldn’t take it directly from him, so could I get him to. Jack wouldn’t, of course, but I felt like Jean-Jacques had turned around. Now I think he was just manipulating me; I fell for it. Again.” She cursed then, and stood to pour something stronger in her tea.

“Anyway, then I met Neil—seems unlikely, I know. He was a friend of my father’s, so it was more a reacquaintance, but we got along so well. And I was so tired of boys my age and the stupid things they did. I didn’t see much of Jack after that, but he seemed to land on his feet. Johnnie, though,” Evangeline growled. “I think he never did change.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. A leopard just never changes its spots.”

Cam could tell that conversation thread wasn’t going anywhere, so she changed subjects. “So you cosigned on the Spoons loan.”

“You know about that?”

“It’s part of what the police are looking at.”

“Heavens! It is? I mean in reality, it’s not such a big deal. I trusted Nick—I felt guilty, honestly, and I was in a position to do it. I knew he wouldn’t run out on it, loving Petunia like he does. And with all his cooking skill, I was betting they’d make it. All I did was sign my name.”

“And trust him.”

“Yes. I trust him. Is that so bad? He’s a trustworthy guy.”

Cam didn’t feel so keen pursuing Evangeline as a suspect anymore. She couldn’t even bring herself to ask why Jean-Jacques had called her the morning of the murder. She liked Nick having a fan who was really just his friend, even if she
knew Petunia wouldn’t feel so warm and fuzzy about it. There were a couple of questions left, though.

“On the morning Jean-Jacques was killed, why was your screen out? It looked like he’d fallen out the window, but his body really had been moved from the jasmine.”

Evangeline scrutinized her, and Cam realized Evangeline hadn’t known that piece. Instead of asking about it, however, she answered the question.

“Benny was having such fits. It was still mostly dark outside, and I couldn’t make out what he meant. I guess I pushed it out when I was trying to talk to him. That’s when I saw the body and called for Giselle to call 9-1-1. I suppose there was a lot of screaming and hysteria involved besides that, but that’s what I remember.”

Cam had a last question, but had no idea how to bring it up. She fidgeted uncomfortably, sipping her tea as Evangeline babbled, but finally just came out with it.

“When they were looking for Annie’s camera, a cheap digital was found in greenhouse one… pictures of you…”

“Me?”

“They’re not… Mr. Patrick doesn’t take pictures of you… in lingerie and your swimsuit and stuff, does he?”

“Neil? He wouldn’t need to! He has the real me.” The implication then registered. “There are pictures of me? In lingerie?” Her eyes were wide with shock.

“Swimsuit. Workout clothes. A lot of pictures.”

Evangeline frowned. Cam believed the surprise was genuine.

“I’d have to see them to know when they were taken, but I haven’t knowingly posed like that—I guess maybe twice in Jersey, but I’d have black hair in those; otherwise, not since the swimsuit stuff in the pageant years.”

“So somebody took these pictures without your knowing?” That wasn’t actually surprising, given the unposed nature of the pictures Cam had seen, but she didn’t want to assume too much. “I only got a peek, but I’d guess they were taken here.”

Evangeline shivered.

“Maybe you could help the police determine when they were taken. I don’t know whether the photos are connected to Jean-Jacques, but they might be. Maybe somebody killed Jean-Jacques for taking them.”

Evangeline’s face registered disbelief and confusion before it finally settled again. “They would have to have been shot within a certain time frame for Jean-Jacques to have taken them, but I can’t think of anyone who would kill someone over pictures.”

“Not Mr. Patrick,” Cam stated. She didn’t think that was even a question.

“Of course not!”

“No one else… obsessive? Protective?”

“I mean… I still get the occasional weirdo recognizing me, but I can’t think of anyone specific.”

“Servants? Staff?”

“Well, Benny has a crush on me, but that’s sort of sweet.”

Now, that
was
curious, Cam thought, but she decided to cruise past that fact for now.

“Anyone in the Garden Society?”

Evangeline frowned again. “I don’t think so.”

Cam squashed the idea that if Nick was half the fan of Evangeline as Evangeline was of Nick, that reinforced him as a suspect.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes. “Before I call… are any of them… really humiliating?”

“Everything I saw was PG-13.” Cam didn’t mention the reason she hadn’t looked further was that exact fear. Evangeline nodded, then went on. “I don’t want to gossip, but as long as we’re getting ideas out there, did you know Jean-Jacques owed Samantha quite a lot of money?”

“A lot?”

“He was trying to get me to front him a portion so he could win back the rest to repay her.” That, Cam thought, could easily explain the early morning phone call.

“Which is why he has the gambling debt? I take it you said no?”

“I did say no. Winning didn’t sound very sure to me, even if I trusted him enough to lend him money, which I didn’t. I don’t know anything about the gambling debt, though.”

“What I know is Samantha used his debt to her to get him here for the shoot, and that he owes a bookie here in town.”

“Quite a bit to know.” Evangeline eyed her. “Should you know all that?”

“It’s nothing supersecret. Rob is covering the case, and my brother-in-law was the first one accused, so I’ve taken an interest.”

“Oh, I can understand why. It can’t help to have your best friend be the second accused.”