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Creepy, Daisy thought, but no less creepy than what she was doing, peering in their windows.
She started to back away when she saw a purple velvet chaise lounge, a pink silk robe carelessly tossed atop its surface. There were two glasses of wine next to it, one half-empty. And there was a slip of pink shiny fabric, discarded on the tile floor.
As she strained to look closer, she noticed a discarded bra top, under the chaise.
As she stared, trying to put the pieces together, she heard a sharp, female cry.
Jumping to attention, she scanned the area, trying to decide where the sound had come from. It hit her almost instantly—somewhere inside the house.
Rushing to the front door, she pulled on the knob. Locked.
As Daisy scanned to either side of the house, noticing the tall wooden gate, half-covered in ivy, the voice came again. “Oh! No! No! Nooooo!”
The woman sounded in distress. Daisy’s heart pounded in her chest as she reached the gate and worked to lift the latch, her knuckles scraping the rough wood. She finally undid it and rushed into a small, enclosed backyard.
There was a huge splash, and the first thing she saw was the swimming pool. Only about the size of a large hot tub, it took up half the space in the yard, with a bubbling waterfall. The place was like some odd Japanese garden, with a pagoda and bridge over a koi pond. It might have looked nice, except for the obvious astroturf and fake purple flowers everywhere.
Then she saw the man standing over it. He was huge, tanned, muscled . . . and naked.
So not only was Kiki a trophy wife . . . she’d clearly had no reservations about awarding herself to someone else, even before her husband was in the ground.
Muscles turned to Daisy as a woman surfaced from the depths of the pool. “You idiot!” she snarled. “You ruined my blow--”
Her eyes fell on Daisy.
“Who the hell are you?”
The man looked over, reached down, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around himself. He grabbed another towel and handed it to the woman, then headed for Daisy, pointing forcefully at the gate. “This is private property. You’re not allowed back here, so you’d better leave before we—"
“I’m a private investigator, here at Goldie Tate’s request,” she said, enjoying the way the woman’s eyes widened. “I’m here to see Kiki Tate. She was expecting me at her villa in Venice, but I learned she left there early, and came here?”
The muscled man turned back toward the woman, waiting for her direction.
She simply climbed out of the pool, wrapping the towel around her body, and huffed, “I don’t care who you are. I don’t have to talk to anyone.”
Daisy planted her feet and crossed her arms. “I’ll take it that’s you, then. You’re right, you don’t have to talk. But Goldie is in the process of building a case against you for the murder of your husband.”
The woman came up close to her. Even drenched, she was unquestionably beautiful, with big blue eyes, long lashes, a pert little nose and a pink bow of a mouth. She also didn’t look like the typical vapid supermodel. Maybe it was the warning she’d gotten from Goldie, but there was something more behind her eyes. Something calculating. It almost gave Daisy the urge to blink and look away, but she managed to hold firm as the woman said, “That’s ridiculous. Goldie always was a nasty one. Jealous of me, jealous of all of us, even though she had no reason to be.”
“What do you mean by that? You don’t think she had a reason to be jealous if you took her man?”
“No. Because what happened to her, happens to all of us.”
“What does that mean.”
She waved it away. “It doesn’t matter. My husband’s dead now, and I’m not going to say bad things about him. Besides, she has no proof.”
“She might not have proof, but there are at least five things that have led her to be suspicious.”
Kiki snorted. “Oh? Like what?”
Daisy easily counted them off on her one finger. “One. Several people said that you and your husband had an argument the night before he left on his trip. Two. You had never packed his protein drink but decided to, that day. Three. You were the sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy. Four. You suddenly flew out here rather than meet with me, which looks like you were trying to escape. And Five—”
Daisy glanced at the man who was sitting at the pool, flexing his muscles.
Kiki looked over her shoulder at him and said, “Bruno is my friend and Yoga instructor.”
Bruno winked beneath his shock of blonde hair, snapped his fingers, and pointed at her. “Love you, babe.”
