Part 15 (1/2)

”I apologize for posing as a Wings delivery man?”

”And for stealing the truck?”

”I work at Wings between acting jobs,” Zachary admitted. ”We returned the truck.”

”We?” I asked turning to Phoebe. ”Aha! You wore the missing red wig from Dom's dressing room, didn't you, Miss Muir, in my shop that day?”

Phoebe Muir's face got pink. ”Yes, yes, it was me.” ”And you, Mr. Taggart, were my dreadfully overcostumed customer that morning.”

”Guilty,” Taggart, Dom's former leading man, said with a voice that could rival James Earl Jones. He looked older up close, not quite as perfectly das.h.i.+ng as his publicity photos, though his voice would carry the day in any musical.

”What was the point of that exercise?” I asked the three caballeros.

”Dom said you might be in danger after we got the gown to you,” Phoebe said. ”I thought we'd stick around to make sure that whoever stole the diamonds didn't follow us.”

I straightened. ”I'm listening.”

Phoebe looked down and toyed with the ta.s.sel on her Givenchy Ombre before she looked up at me. ”Something was very wrong around here, obviously, but Dominique wouldn't tell me what. She only told me to get that box to you if something happened to her. I knew she'd worked on the dress. I was afraid she was sending you the diamonds to protect them from being stolen.”

I didn't tell them that those were not diamonds on the dress. I would have noticed that right away. Granted, I was sh.e.l.l-shocked, but I know a diamond when I see one.

”Our idea,” Zachary said, ”was to keep the diamonds out of the thief's hands. Well, thief or thieves.”

”Do you know, or suspect, who the thief or thieves might have been?”

”No,” Phoebe said, and the two brothers shook their heads. No suspects, then.

I twirled the tie at the neck of Coco's dress. ”So you don't know who you were trying to protect me from?”

Phoebe shrugged and by the look of her, she felt foolish. ”'Fraid not.”

”I'm glad you didn't try to tackle our local detective,” I said.

”We could tell you knew him,” Taggart said. ”He's here with you, right?”

”Yes, he's with my parents. I mean my father and my aunt. Hey, if you're brothers, why don't you have the same last names?”

”We're actors,” Zachary said. ”Stage names.”

Well, that made sense, I thought. ”Have you shared your suspicions about the diamond theft with the police?”

”Uh, no,” Phoebe said. ”There was the matter of Zack borrowing his truck without permission and driving it over a state line.”

”I'm sure that Dominique is smiling down on you for a great try. I a.s.sume, since you left the Wings truck, you took the train home?”

”Not exactly,” Phoebe said. ”Lance and I followed the Wings truck down to Connecticut in Lance's car. After we dropped the truck off, Zack and I took the train home and-”

”I drove up north to visit a friend in New Hamps.h.i.+re,” Taggart added.

Kyle caught up with us, shook hands with Lance and Zachary, hugged Phoebe, and put his arm possessively around Eve. ”Madeira figured out your little scheme, didn't she?” Kyle said, his gaze skimming the three of them. ”I told you she would.”

So, Kyle knew what they were up to? Why had he said he couldn't find the gown Dom meant for me, then?

Thirty-one.

Tradition doesn't make for fas.h.i.+on. What matters is the architecture of the garment and that architecture has to be international.

-CHANTAL ROUSSEAU The Pierpont house was a man's manse, a tribute to the arts and crafts movement. Tiffany chandeliers like the Acorn, the Daffodil, and the Curtain Border were perfectly placed, not to mention the Grande Peony floor lamp. The priceless collection set the scene as the lamps accented authentic, antique mission-style furniture, their cus.h.i.+ons upholstered in original earth-toned leathers.

Taupe shutters on tall, churchlike Gothic windows sat open and invited the sun to nourish the larger than life vegetation inside.

Stained-gla.s.s windows flanked the ma.s.sive golden oak front door, arched at the top with straight sides, they filtered light through an entry of hanging wisteria.

Priceless art deco accents complemented the huge rooms with coordinating oriental carpets playing off each other in greens, tans, siennas, and gingers. Art pieces of bronze and copper heralded the wealth of the Pierpont Diamond Mines.

In other words, holding the reception here had nothing to do with kindness and everything to do with showing off.

Maids and butlers circulated with trays of hot beverages and a ”light” offering of shrimp c.o.c.ktail, filet mignon, and lobster tails. ”I sense that Pierpont would have preferred to serve champagne but doesn't dare because it'll seem more like a celebration than a wake,” I whispered to Eve.

Eve looked at Kyle. ”Why did Pierpont hire your mother if he didn't like her?”

”Pierpont's father, Victor, hired my mother. Victor died two weeks ago and already Pierce, the son, was closing the show.”

Now I understood the closing, but I was beginning to doubt that it was losing money. It didn't matter because when the public swarms a ticket counter and buys the show out, the d.a.m.n thing stays open. Pierpont would be crazy to close it now.

”After last night, he has reason to celebrate,” Werner said, thinking along the same lines. ”He's gonna make money hand over fist with his new leading lady.”

”Speaking of whom.” Eve pointed with her fork. ”Is that her on Pierpont's arm?”

I raised a brow. ”That didn't take long.”

Werner sipped his espresso. ”Unless their relations.h.i.+p started before Dominique was killed. Mad,” Werner said, ”add Pierpont to your suspect list.”

”Thank you for your guidance, but I'm way ahead of you.”

Pierpont and Ursula, Dom's former understudy approached us. ”Care for a tour of the house?” the new star of Diamond Sands asked, acting like the hostess with no complaint from Pierpont. Do tell.

”Let's start upstairs,” she said. ”I love our suite.”

She wanted us, Dominique's friends, to know that they, the show's backer and understudy, were sleeping together. Weird kind of misplaced pride that showed how dumb she was.

Well, maybe it was just the little girl from the wrong side of the tracks acting like she'd won the lottery.

Pierpont would have to rub that s.h.i.+ny new-money glow off Ursula and fast, introduce her to a little social grace, or she'd tarnish his perfect, old-money patina.