Page 3 of The Rainbow Recipe
Black hovered around the older man. That could mean any number of things, none of them healthy or showing compassion for the dead woman or her lover.
The auras of the two male model types were murky with gray and brown, concealing their better selves in guardedness and distrust. That poor woman chose her friends badly.
Six-feet tall in sky-high heels, Larraine Ward sailed into the melee wearing a Cher-length black wig and a costume with more beads and spangles than the performer ever wore. For Halloween, the mayoral candidate had apparently foregone her usual sophisticated elegance, flying her rainbow flag, and letting her inner drag queen shine. Anyone attending tonight would have no doubt of Larraine’s gender identity. That was one of the reasons Evie adored her—she was bluntly honest and so very not a politician.
With the authority she’d developed fighting her way to the top tier of the fashion world, Larraine ushered the crowd toward the buffet. With their departure, Jax and the security team set up a dressing screen to block off this portion of the lobby.
In her wake, Larraine left the local GP, who stooped down to examine the body.
Pris caught Evie’s elbow and whispered, “Any ghost?”
Evie shook her head. “I’ve never been on the scene when someone dies. I don’t know if their spirit immediately departs or what happens, sorry. What did you sense?”
“Triumph,” her cousin replied grimly. “Someone in the vicinity felt triumph just before she collapsed. We need to find out who gave her the limoncello.”
“The what?” Evie asked before sensing someone listening in. She turned and frowned at the nondescript frump she recognized as the Charleston columnist covering the party.
Jax stepped behind Evie to firmly direct the sharp-nosed journalist toward Larraine at the other end of the room. She protested, but security moved in, and the reporter fled.
Securityconsisted of Evie’s partners, Jax’s former military intelligence team. Reuben and Roark were even taller and broader than Jax and far scarier looking, even though they’d attempted to dress up. That meant removing nose rings and bones in top knots and wearing long sleeves to hide the tats—although Rube was also wearing a vampire cape. Muscled Roark’s shirt clung to his chest and bore a bat signal.
With her usual disregard of this blatant display of masculinity, Pris answered Evie’s question. “Limoncello, basically lemon juice with 40% alcohol. I’d die if I drank it too, but I’m guessing the taste would disguise anything short of a nuclear bomb.” Pris surreptitiously passed her the shot glass wrapped in linen. “I don’t want to be involved. Give this to Troy.”
Evie could hear the sheriff’s booming voice approaching. He would have been patrolling close by for a shindig this large. She took the glass and hid it in the arms of her gauzy genie sleeves.
Jax returned and held out his hand. “Let’s give whatever you and Pris are hiding to Troy, then try to direct the journalists to better topics.”
Evie stood on tiptoe and kissed his tense jaw. “I do love you even when you’re being an obnoxious lawyer. I need to talk to Troy first.”
Jax’s protective streak practically glowed luminescent, but he reluctantly waited at her side until Troy arrived. The sheriff consulted with the physician, nodded at Mavis, and warily noted the rest of Evie’s family circling the scene. “All right, folks, there’s nothing further we can do here. Who is the lady’s next of kin?”
The lady’s entourage remained silent.
Jax all but growled under his breath. Looking as if he’d swallowed acid, he stepped forward. “Vincent, give the sheriff the lady’s information. He’s a good man, just trying to help.”
Evie’s uptight lawyer lover had been working with La Bella Gente to establish the proper legal papers for running an American company. He didn’t say it, but Evie could tell he didn’t like them. He wasn’t really a corporate lawyer and had only taken the job as a favor to Larraine.
Hoping Larraine wouldn’t be caught in the backwash of this nasty incident, Evie lurked while the sheriff set his men to taking notes from the newcomers, with Jax’s aid. Judging by accents, they were apparently British. Interesting. She’d thought it an Italian company.
She waited until the medics arrived, and Troy stepped away, before cornering him.
“You’re all but humming loud enough to be an alarm,” Troy said in disgruntlement when Evie approached. “What do you have to make my life more difficult?”
She handed him the linen-wrapped shot glass. “She was drinking from this when she dropped. She was surrounded by bad vibes. We don’t think this was natural.”
Troy sighed and slid the napkin-wrapped glass into an evidence bag. “Doc says she had a heart attack. She may have been surrounded by Mafia for all I know, but that doesn’t mean she was murdered.”
“You want to wait until I start seeing ghosts? Any evidence will be gone by then. You’re the only man we can trust to take a deeper look.” Evie batted her lashes at him, knowing full well they had no effect. Sheriff Troy was old enough to be her father and knew Evie’s ploys too well. She just kept it up for practice.
“I can’t imagine what evidence we can find with a party this size trashing the place, but I’ll keep my eyes open. Larraine was just asking for trouble bringing in these strangers.” Troy walked off to talk with one of his men.
Evie saw the vague formation of a murky pink glow above the body as medics lifted Lady Katherine to the gurney.
She hoped Jax was telling Troy that the lady wasn’t a lady but a tramp.
Three: Pris
ELECTION NIGHT
