Makeovers Can Be Murder

Chapter 16

I shook off the bleak thoughts about the loss of my mother and focused my attention on Shaina. Her face was tiny and pale, a porcelain doll′s head lost in the middle of the hospital bedding. And terribly alone.

″Here′s my uncle Belmont′s phone number.″ Shaina wrote a number on a piece of paper I′d handed her. ″The doctor told me that he and my aunt are flying back from the West Coast right now. They should be here in a couple of hours.″

When I promised to get in touch with them, she peered into my face. ″What have the police told you so far?″

″They′ll talk to you when you′re up to it,″ I said.

I didn′t want to compromise anything the police were doing by saying too much to Shaina yet. Better for Luke to tell her what was going on. Any information she got from me risked influencing what she told the investigators about the attack.

Closing her eyes, Shaina leaned back against the pillows. ″His face was young,″ she said. ″And… this is going to sound weird, but he looked kind of scared. That doesn′t make sense, does it? I didn′t think he′d shoot her. I never even saw a gun. Why did he do it, Kate? There has to be a reason.″

″These animals have their own reasons for killing,″ I said. ″The reasons don′t make sense to us. They′re just thugs.″

″I′m an orphan now,″ she said, as if testing out the sound of the unfamiliar word.

In a whisper she continued, ″Orphan. That word sounds strange, doesn′t it? When you′re an orphan it seems like you should be a kid. Like Little Orphan Annie.″

″It′s a horrible thing to lose your parents no matter what age you are,″ I replied.

Shaina was staring past me. Then her neck arched back, and her gaze angled away at a guarded slant.

I turned around to see what she was looking away from.

A man charged into the room at a full-bore tilt. ″My dear, how are you feeling?″ he said. ″Oh, my girl, I was thinking of you the entire drive up from Florida.″

″Gavin.″ Shaina said the name in a flat-sounding voice. ″Kate, this is my stepfather.″

With a jolt, I recognized Gavin. He was the man I′d just seen outside in the parking garage. There was no mistaking the Trump-do and gaga-musky men′s fragrance.

Jana′s widower was Mr. Musk-and-Blow. Who, when last seen by me, had been playing hide-the-hand down the décolleté of the chesty blonde in his Corvette.