“Sit, have a cup of tea.”
As she sipped the tea, Callie was surprised to realize she felt better than she had in a while. Was it the jolt of adrenaline from the accident? It made her feel the opposite of what she might have expected: It was a good feeling, strangely calm. Her heart was no longer racing.
“Do you have your dress for the party?” Towner asked. “You want to borrow those pearls again?”
“I’m all set,” Callie said. She didn’t want to say that if Paul had his way, they wouldn’t even be going.
“So how does Paul feel about this whole situation?” Towner asked.
It really was strange how Towner could read her.
Callie shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about any of it. “We’re both just trying to get through this thing on Saturday.”
Callie’s cell rang. It was Rafferty, asking her to come to the station. “I have something to give you,” he said. “It belonged to Rose.”
There was something so pretentious about naming a house. Pride’s Heart took it to a new level. Rafferty understood the intention. Someone had decided that, as the largest house in the area, it was the heart of the town, or should be, and had named it accordingly.
He couldn’t blame Finn Whiting’s ego for that, though he wished he could. The house had been christened long before Finn. He looked at the invitation again. “Pride goeth before a fall,” he said to himself, quoting biblical verse.
There was another biblical quote about pride and the heart, he thought, trying to recall it. As a student at Fordham, when he had actually considered becoming a priest, he could have told you both chapter and verse. But now he had to look it up. He searched the web for biblical quotes on pride.
Obadiah 1:3: The pride of thine heart hath deceived thee…
Rafferty wasn’t looking forward to attending the marriage celebration. Ann had told Towner that Marta was planning to have a hundred flower girls serve the luncheon, evidently girls from a school Marta raised money for. No one had said it outright, but it was obvious that she was trying to outdo the previous Mrs. Finn Whiting.
Poor Emily. How had she first found out about Marta? Why hadn’t she left Finn? Rafferty rubbed his hands over his eyes. Infidelity. He wished he could wipe the word from his brain. The energy it took not to think about that night, in the hope that Towner wouldn’t read his thoughts, was exhausting.
Jay-Jay buzzed Rafferty to tell him Callie was at the front desk.
“Send her in,” he said, forgetting until the last moment that the contents of the evidence boxes were spread across his desk and office. He’d managed to find and interview sixteen of the men the Goddesses had been involved with, including two older officers on his own force. He’d had to threaten suspension, but, in the end, they’d cooperated. One suspect led to another, with each adding a bit more of the story, though never enough to solve the mystery. He was able to confirm one thing that proved Helen wrong. Rose’s house had not been a brothel. When he asked if the Goddesses ever took money for services rendered, every man replied that they did not. He believed them.
But when it came to who committed the crime, he had no idea whom to believe. The fifth petal of the rose he’d drawn when Callie first arrived now had so many names crossed out and rewritten under Sarah Good’s that he’d worn a hole in the paper and had to attach another piece, taping it to the edge and drawing an arrow from the petal to a list of possible suspects that was so long he’d had to fold the paper in half in order to fit the whole thing back in his desk drawer. It seemed everyone had a motive of some kind. Or, if they didn’t, then their wives did. Now he had too many suspects, and they were still no closer to locating Leah Kormos. But Rafferty had a nagging idea he wasn’t able to shake. If he was right, he might have started more trouble than if he’d left the case alone and the boxes of evidence in storage, as old Tom Dayle had suggested.
He tried to clean up the papers he’d spread out, but it was too late. Callie spotted the photo on his desk the moment she walked in.
“The mural!” she said, picking up the picture and staring at it. She studied it for a long time. “They were amazing looking, weren’t they?”
“They were,” he said.
“I remember the painter,” she said. “He was a friend of Rose’s.”
“Was he one of their conquests?” Rafferty asked.
“No, he wasn’t one of them. I remember him as a very nice older gentleman. I think…well, as I recall him, he was probably gay.”
Rafferty had heard this from one of the officers as well. It seemed to be the best-kept secret in town; one of the only people who didn’t know it was Helen.
“I’m glad you found this,” she said. “I don’t have any photos of them.”
“Actually, this isn’t why I called, though I will gladly make you a copy.” He reached down, opened his desk drawer, and pulled out a small box. On the back, someone had written RETURN TO ROSE WHELAN.
“I’m not certain why they never gave this back to her, but I am sure she’d want you to have it.”
Slowly, Callie opened the box. When she saw what was inside, she started to cry.
It was the rosary.
“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t mean for it to upset—”
She held up her hand. “No, it’s good. I’m fine. Thank you for giving it to me.”
She held it in her hand, the five petals fitting into her scar, which had stretched as she’d grown, so the rose that had once barely fit in her palm now seemed miniature. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she asked.
Rafferty nodded. “It is.”
She put the rosary around her neck, the same way Rose had worn it. “Thank you,” she said again. “This makes me happy.”
“You don’t look very happy.” He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake, giving her this reminder of her past. He noticed the ring she was wearing; he knew of the engagement, had already congratulated both of them, but now he said nothing. “You want to talk?”
“It’s nothing beyond the obvious,” she admitted. “The ‘celebration,’?” Callie punctuated with air quotes. “I’m happy that you and Towner are coming.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said, hearing how hollow his lie sounded.
Callie laughed. “My sentiments exactly. As well as Paul’s.” Then she looked at him curiously. “This wasn’t the only reason you asked me here, was it?” she said, fingering the rosary.
“Jesus, what is it with the women in this town? Is every one of you a goddamned mind reader?”
She looked surprised by his outburst but said nothing.
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t the reason. Not entirely.” He hesitated, then pulled out the rules and put the list down in front of her. “Have you ever seen this before?”