Stiletto by Brenda Peterson

Author:Brenda Peterson [Peterson, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

XV

ANNA

May 26, 2019

It took some time to navigate the hills and one-way streets to get through rush-hour traffic to the Cushmans’ home in Seattle’s elite Magnolia Bluff neighborhood. A maid ushered Anna and Rafe into the vestibule of Eloise and Hugh Cushman’s spacious home overlooking the Salish Sea. Anna noted both Cushman’s ex-wife and stepson were dressed more for an early summer fete than an informal investigation. Eloise wore a striking red linen dress, which showed off her ample cleavage, and scarlet high heels—no stately silk float and cashmere drapes for this trophy ex-wife. Her face was creepily serene from countless Botox treatments. Who would willingly ply one’s lips with toxic botulisms from spider or snake venom? Anna wondered.

Her son, Hugh, was casually decked out in a richly patterned sweater, slacks, and Italian sandals.

“Welcome, detectives.” Eloise greeted them. “You’re just in time for dinner.”

“Thank you, but we’re on duty . . . we can’t . . .” Anna began, but Eloise dismissed her with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand.

“Nonsense,” Hugh said. “It’s well past your quitting time. Our cook has been working all afternoon for this dinner party. Might as well enjoy a beautiful meal while we talk. Plus, I’m starved, aren’t you?”

Dinner party! Anna glanced at Rafe in alarm, hoping her partner would insist on a professional interview and not be drawn into dining with suspects. But Rafe was already following Hugh and the tantalizing scents wafting from the kitchen.

“We appreciate this little ‘at home’ visit,” Eloise Cushman said as she took Rafe’s arm. “So much more civilized than a police station.”

Reluctantly, Anna followed, scrutinizing Cushman’s former spouse for any anxiety or avarice in Eloise’s expression. She couldn’t tell. Thanks a lot, Juvederm. Anna recalled what little she’d gleaned about Eloise and Hugh Cushman. The ex-wife was well-known for her charity work and philanthropic, but sometimes erotic, parties. She was a staunch conservative Republican, active in the arts. The Cushmans had donated a whole wing to a local cancer center and were big donors to a local art museum—but no support of any rehab centers.

Hugh was another matter. With his well-born conceit and rather tentative career as a tennis pro, he would have a good motive to kill both his stepfather and Eleanor Kiernan for any disinheriting change in Cushman’s will. By now the will had been read, and it predictably gave his controlling shares to his son and ex-wife. Cushman had only left his sailboat, airplane, and Friday Harbor beach cottage to Kiernan. She wasn’t, as she’d claimed, in the succession line at Fortura for shares to give her ultimate power.

“Let me introduce you to Cook.” Eloise was at ease and in her element, as she almost danced into the kitchen to greet the cook with a Parisian peck on both of her cheeks.

In the adjoining dining room, Hugh was navigating between the liquor cabinet and bar with equal familiarity, though he did seem to move with an unnaturally deliberate gait for a young athlete. Maybe he’d gotten a head start on cocktails.

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