Page 10 of The Perfect People

“But you know who she invited, right?” Jessie pressed.

“Sure, I was the one tasked with sending out the invites.”

“Was there anyone on that list she had major beefs with?” Jessie asked. “Anyone you could see her getting into a dispute with, especially if alcohol or drugs were involved? Maybe an ex there was tension with? She was divorced, right?”

“She was,” Paisley said, “but I don’t think her ex-husband would make a great suspect. They despise each other but he’s the band manager for Calico Kitten Co-op and they’re currently on a European tour. I think they’re in Prague right now.”

“What about other exes?” Susannah asked. “Or business relationships that soured? How many of those folks were on the guest list you organized?”

Paisley laughed bitterly.

“The formal guest list for the party was around a hundred people, about a third of whom she’s pissed off or vice versa. But based on what she told me about parties in previous years, I’m guessing that she expected close to five hundred people to show up here last night, invited or not. So good luck with your suspect list.”

For the first time since they’d entered the room, Jessie saw Susannah start to lose patience with Paisley. The detective’s back stiffened and her nostrils flared ever so slightly. In order to nip any unneeded conflict in the bud, she popped up and spoke before her partner could.

“Thanks, Paisley. We’ll be in touch.”

She nodded to Susannah, who reluctantly followed her out of the room, along with Sergeant Breem, who hadn’t spoken the entire time. Officer Timms remained behind. Once they closed the door, Breem spoke before Susannah could express her irritation.

“I’m afraid Paisley’s guess about attendance at the party last night may be low,” he whispered. “I’m hearing well over five hundred people passed through this place.”

“Wonderful,” Jessie muttered, wondering how they would even begin to put together a cohesive suspect list.

“That’s the bad news,” Breem said. “The good news is that you should be able to talk to some more of them now.”

“What do you mean,now?” Susannah demanded, still surly about the backtalk they’d gotten from Paisley at the end of their interview.

“Well, you remember how I said earlier that when people started to wake up, we hoped some of them might come forward with information?”

Both women nodded.

“Well, a lot of them weren’t just sleeping,” he said. “Until recently, most of them were too drunk or high—or both—to be of much use to you. But now a few of them are conscious and coherent. Would you like to chat with them?”

Jessie looked over at Susannah Valentine, who appeared to have a profanity on the tip of her tongue, and shook her head in resigned dismay.

“This just keeps getting better and better.”

CHAPTER SIX

Hannah tried to hide her nerves.

As her rideshare pulled off the Pacific Coast Highway into the driveway of Patrice’s family’s beach house at the northern end of Santa Monica, she felt a flutter of butterflies in her belly and did her best not to squirm in her seat.

There was a time, not so long ago, when she almost never got nervous at all. Of course, that was back when she was numb most of the time, so closed off after the horrors she’d experienced that it took extreme experiences—either positive or (mostly) negative—for her to feel much of anything, and even then typically only passionate hate or giddy elation.

It was only recently, when she’d allowed herself to actually care about the well-being of other people besides her sister, that more subtle gradations of feeling had worked their way back into her emotional palette. Among them were pride, regret, concern, enthusiasm, and, apparently at the moment, nervousness. She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew why.

The car came to a stop. She got out with her small travel backpack and walked toward the front door of what was less a house and more of a chateau plopped down in front of the beach. It had steep, hipped roofs and twin chimneys, along with an actual tower and battlement-style walls that had to be at least fifteen feet high. It was a definite, bold statement of style.

Before she got too far, the door flew open, and someone charged out toward her. For half a second, Hannah had the urge to turn and run. She only relaxed when she saw who it was: Patrice.

The last—and only—time Hannah had seen Patrice Buono had been in the small mountain town of Wildpines over eight months ago when she, Jessie, and Ryan had been hiding out from an elderly serial killer. Somehow, during that high-tension period, she’d managed to make friends with a group of students from a nearby arts-centric high school who liked to hang out at the coffeehouse where Hannah had been spending time.

After the threat was eliminated and the real reason Hannah was in town was revealed, they’d all exchanged numbers and stayed in touch. But this was the first time she was seeing any of them in person since that wintry mountain getaway. And apparently whatever nerves she felt were not reciprocated by Patrice.

The petite blonde with blue and purple streaks in her long, wild hair flung herself into Hannah’s arms, with complete confidence that she wouldn’t be dropped. Hannah squeezed her tight as she tried to keep her balance. Patrice gave her a big kiss right on the lips, then on both cheeks, before sliding down her front like she was an amusement park ride.

“I forgot how tall you were, girl,” she said happily.

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