Free Killerfind by Sharon Woods Hopkins

over this creep, she’d have
to find a way to tell her how sleazy he was. Her heartburn increased.
    As to the folder, she decided she’d ask Randolph’s
advice before telling anyone anything.
     
    *
* *
     
    Reaching
the end of the walk, she encountered a tall wooden fence with an ornately
trimmed gate at one end. Finding the gate unlocked, she pushed it open and
discovered she was poolside among a throng of swimsuit-clad guests. Busy
chatting and drinking, they ignored her as she edged past them and around the
pool. Someone dove in and splashed her as she passed. A burst of laughter
followed and she waved. No harm. The water felt good. She ducked under an arbor
and entered a gazebo where there were more guests. These folks were somewhat
less scantily clad. And from the size and shape of them, it was probably just
as well.
    So far, she hadn’t seen anyone she knew personally.
As she’d made her way around the pool, she thought she recognized some other
bankers from the “big box” banks, but she couldn’t be sure. They may have
looked different to her since she had never seen any of them without their
clothes before. The only time she saw most of them was at the Chamber of
Commerce meetings, where they almost always dressed in suits. Of course, some
of the women were pretty scantily clad there, too, come to think of it.
    Once past the gazebo, she cut across a cobblestone
patio with an open pergola. The wood slats across the top were draped in a
flowering vine abundant with saucer-sized purple flowers. A custom outdoor
kitchen occupied the entire west end of the patio. A mouth-watering aroma of
grilling meat wafted toward her. At the barbeque pit stood a man covered in a
long white apron over white jeans and sporting a chef’s hat that bounced and
jiggled as he deftly worked the grill. She recognized James, the chef from Restaurant
du Jour , a favorite eatery of hers and Randolph’s.
    She waved at him as she pulled open one of the
French doors to the house. Inside, blessedly cool air welcomed her into a sea
of guests who were busy chatting, laughing and holding beverages. Many were
snacking from a heavy pine table mounded with appetizers. Across the room,
which was probably a gathering room, judging from the casually elegant
stainless steel and leather furniture in a semi-circle in front of a fireplace,
she noticed a hand waving toward her. The hand, arm, and soon the rest of Ricky
emerged from a cluster of people.
    “Rhetta! Over here,” she called.
    “Hey!” Rhetta answered, and glanced around. She held
up the tote. “Where shall I put this wine?”
    “Follow me,” said her friend. Rhetta squeezed in
behind Ricky and trailed her into the lavish kitchen that must have been
renovated about the same time as Jeremy’s apartment. Rhetta recognized the same
high quality craftsmanship in the cabinetry along with similar high-end
stainless steel appliances. She set the bottles down on a shiny granite
countertop, and folded the tote into her purse.
    “Let me introduce you to our hostess,” Ricky said,
sliding an arm through Rhetta’s and leading her out to an extension of the
patio, toward a silver-haired lady holding court near a water fountain.
“Anjanette Spears, meet my best friend, Rhetta McCarter.” As Rhetta smiled at
Anjanette, she resolved to find a way to pull Ricky away and talk to her
privately, and soon.
    The hostess beamed at Rhetta and extended her hand.
Rhetta grasped it and was surprised at the strength in the older woman’s
handshake. “So pleased to meet you, Mrs. Spears.”
    Anjanette laughed, revealing beautiful white teeth,
undoubtedly the work of the same orthodontist who had worked on Jeremy. The
smile was far too bright for a lady who had to be pushing seventy. “Please, my
friends all call me Anjanette, as must you, dear Rhetta.” When she spoke, her
voice warbled as though in a song. She wore her silver hair pulled back and
held by an ornate silver clasp at the base of her neck.