Makeovers Can Be Murder

Chapter 17

Without thinking, I stepped between Gavin and Shaina, blocking her stepfather′′s progress.

″What? Who are you?″ Gavin said to me, taking a step back.

There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes. Obviously he′d been too wrapped up with Miss Skanky Blonde to notice me standing right next to his Corvette.

″I′m not up to seeing anyone right now,″ Shaina said to me.

Looking directly at her stepfather, she continued, ″Please, Kate-can you make him go away?″

″Let′s go outside for a moment,″ I said to Gavin, hustling him out the door.

Once we were in the hallway, I closed the door to Shaina′s room behind us.

″What′s wrong with her?″ Gavin sounded bewildered. ″I drove here all the way from Florida to see her.″

″Well, I′m sorry, but she said she′s not up to seeing you right now. And anyway-don′t you have someone waiting for you outside?″

Gavin shot me a guarded look. ″What do you mean?″ he demanded.

″I think you know what I′m talking about.″

″It′s not your business,″ he sputtered. ″Like I said before, who the hell are you?″

″I′m a friend of Jana′s. Your wife, remember? I saw you in your car out in the parking garage just a little while ago with that blonde. Isn′t it inappropriate for you to bring your girlfriend with you to the hospital, right after your wife is killed?″

Gavin dug into his pocket and extracted his car keys, as if preparing to make a getaway. But it turned out he was just getting warmed up.

″I don′t know what you think you saw,″ he said, his chest puffing up. ″My assistant, Can-dice, drove up here with me from Miami. She′s doing some work for me this week. That′s all.″

″Candice? You mean Candy, don′t you? Admirer of the naked videos you sent her? I have sources who told me all about them, Gavin. Or is it Guido? Didn′t you change your name?″

″What the-How dare you?″

Gavin swayed dangerously close. Even though it was before noon, I could smell whiskey on his breath.

A doctor passed by and scanned our tense body language with a curious expression.

As soon as the man was out of earshot, Gavin grabbed hold of my forearm. He wasn′t a huge man, but his grip was painful.

″Who the hell do you think you are?″ he said, lowering his voice to a growl. ″You′re interfering with my family′s private business. You better back off, lady. I need to talk to my daughter.″

″Shaina′s your stepdaughter, remember? And right now she doesn′t want to talk to you.″

″That′s enough. I′m having you thrown out.″

″That′d be great. In fact, why don′t you call the police, Gavin? You make out with a girlfriend at the hospital the day your wife is murdered? I′m sure they′ll be interested to hear about that.″

″The police will be quite interested, in fact.″

Luke was standing next to me in the hallway. I hadn′t heard him approach. Neither had Gavin, apparently, from the startled look he gave the detective.

Next to Luke was a cop I′d never seen before. He must have recently been promoted to detective grade, or else his wife had just given him a makeover; his blazer-and-khakis outfit looked fresh off the rack. Every movement seemed slightly uncomfortable.

Luke opened his wallet and showed his badge to Gavin.

″You′re Gavin Spellmore, husband of Jana Miller?″

When Gavin nodded, he continued, ″I′m Detective Luke Petronella of Durham Homicide. I′d like you to chat for a few moments with my colleague Detective Stripling.″

Gavin opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it again.

Grabbing me by an elbow, Luke spun me away from Gavin and herded me down the hallway.

I expected Luke to pump me for information about what I′d learned about the tête-à-tête I′d seen between Gavin and his girlfriend in the Corvette. But Luke surprised me by scowling. At me.

″What the hell were you doing just now, Kate?″ he asked. ″You haven′t been talking to my witness Shaina about this case, have you?″

″Of course not,″ I said. ″But I just saw her stepfather, Gavin, outside playing a game of booby trap with his girlfriend. That′s why Jana was divorcing him. Doesn′t that make him a likely suspect in her murder?″

″Oh, so now you′re a historian for the War of the Roses. Are you planning to go to detective school, too?″

Before I could reply, he kept on blasting, ″Are you shittin′ me, Kate? If you screw up my case, I will poach both your ass cheeks and serve them up cold on an English muffin for breakfast. With bacon.″

″I have no idea what that′s supposed to mean, Luke, but you don′t have to threaten me.″

″I wouldn′t have thought of threatening you before now. After witnessing this little hallway performance of yours, I may have to change my mind.″

He stabbed the air with a commanding finger. ″Remember, Kate,″ he said. ″Your bacon. In the eggs Benedict.″

I rolled my eyes. Luke loves food metaphors, but he always messes them up.

I mean, everyone knows that eggs Benedict doesn′t come with bacon.