Page 23 of The Perfect Deception (Jessie Hunt #40)

Diane Lawson felt like a busybody.

The truth is that she was a busybody. Everyone in Lafayette Square knew that. But she didn’t like to feel that way. Still, she knew herself too well. She wasn’t going to be able to let this go until she did something about it.

When she’d taken her labradoodle, Carmine, on his last walk of the night at nine, she’d noticed a light on the second floor of the Patel house. At first she couldn’t put her finger on why that bothered her. But then she remembered. Melanie Patel was supposedly away on a long weekend girls’ trip somewhere. In fact, she’d asked Diane to watch for any packages on her porch while she was gone because her husband, Robert, was away as well.

Now, just because a light was on when the couple wasn’t there, that wasn’t immediate cause for alarm. After all, Diane used a timer system on her own lights when she and Maynard went out of town. Lights throughout their house would turn on and off at certain points throughout the evening to suggest they were still home. But a single light in one room on the second floor?

That didn’t suggest a timer system. It suggested that either someone left it on or was at home. And since neither Patel was supposed to be there, it had her internal alarm bell ringing, if only softly. Normally she would have asked her husband for his opinion. But Maynard was on a flight back from a stockholders’ meeting in New York. He wouldn’t arrive at LAX for another two hours.

Ultimately she decided it was better to be safe than sorry and scratched the itch. So once she returned home from the walk, she found Melanie Patel’s contact number in her phone and called. When Melanie answered, the music in the background was so loud that she could barely hear her.

“Hey Diane,”

Melanie shouted over the din.

“Everything okay?”

Clearly, she wasn't back home, or Diane would have heard the music in person rather than just over the phone.

“Sorry to bother you—”

she began.

“Hold on!”

Melanie interrupted.

“It’s too loud in this club. I can’t hear a word. Give me a second. I’m walking outside.”

Diane waited, trying not to pass judgment. At 63, she was well past her clubbing days. And while Melanie was barely half her age, she was married and, according to neighborhood scuttlebutt, thinking of having a child with Robert. Should she really be out at a dance club, partying the night away without her husband around? How would that look? Girls’ trips were not an excuse to throw caution—and morality—to the wind.

“Okay,”

Melanie said a moment later.

“I’m outside now. Can you hear me?”

“I can.”

The unyielding bass was now only a distant thumping.

“So what’s up?”

“I gather from your ‘clubbing’ that you’re still on your girls’ trip?”

She could hear the judgment in her voice but it was too late to do anything about it.

“I am. Belinda Tropper and I are on Catalina Island through Sunday. Why?”

“And Robert is still away too?”

There was no response. After several seconds Melanie’s voice returned.

“Diane, I think we have a bad connection. You cut out there for a second. The cell service on this part of the island isn’t great. What did you say?”

“I’m just double checking that Robert is still out of town as well.”

She realized that she was shouting, which wasn’t necessary. Yelling wouldn’t improve the connection. But she was getting agitated.

“Yes, Melanie said.

“He’s on a guys’ golfing trip in Lake Tahoe. Why?”

Despite her apprehension that she was being overcautious, Diane decided she couldn’t back out now.

“I was walking Carmine by your place and noticed a light was on in a second floor room. I wasn’t sure if you have a timer system for them or if it was just an oversight when one of you left.”

“I don’t think so.”

Melanie cut out for a second.

“—left after Robby did and I’m usually diligent about that stuff. Are you worried about an intruder?”

“The thought had occurred to me. There was some police activity at two homes a few blocks over earlier today. The authorities kept everything close to the vest so I don’t know the details, but it had me on heightened alert.”

“Let me call Robby to see if he came back early from golfing without telling me. I know his shoulder was bothering him so it’s possible.”

While Diane waited, she kept her eye on the room in question. It was hard to tell much of anything but she didn’t see any movement or shadows. After a bit, Melanie came back on.

“He’s not answering. But that could mean anything. He might be at a loud restaurant. Or he could have gone home and be taking a shower or sleeping.”

“It sounds like it’s nothing to worry about,”

Diane said, though she wasn’t convinced.

“I’m sure that’s true,”

Melanie said.

“But do you think you could do me a favor?”

Diane didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”

“We have a spare key hidden in a rock in the rock garden out in front of the house. Could I impose on you to check things out?”

Diane paused before responding. She was torn. She was hesitant to enter a mostly darkened house that she was unfamiliar with. But she was also curious to check it out. She’d heard stories about the Patel’s being socially…wild and was intrigued to see evidence of it.

“I don’t know. I’d feel more comfortable if Maynard came with me but he’s on a plane right now.”

“I’d really appreciate it, Diane.”

Melanie’s voice was pleading.

“If I don’t know what the deal is, it’s going to eat at me the rest of the weekend.”

Diane relented. She told herself that she was just being neighborly. But deep down, she knew that it was her snooping instinct getting the better of her.

“All right,”

she said, trying to sound more reluctant than she felt.

Melanie gave her instructions on how to locate the fake rock and asked her to call back once she knew what was up. After hanging up, Diane collected her pepper spray and put the leash on Carmine. He was confused by the idea of a second late-night walk, but there was no way she was going into that house alone.

Everything went smoothly. The rock was easy—too easy in Diane’s estimation—to locate. It looked like a piece of misshapen gray plastic rather than a real rock. Anyone on the lookout for such a thing would figure out the ruse immediately.

The key opened the front door just fine. Melanie had prepped her that there wasn’t an alarm system. Diane flicked on the foyer light and with the pepper spray in one hand and Carmine’s leash in the other, made her way up the stairs.

She was briefly tempted to call the police non-emergency line to have them stay on the call with her. But she knew what they’d say. Don’t go in the house. We’ll send a unit over. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want that. She wanted to sneak around the place with the owner’s permission and no one to watch her.

So she left her phone in her pocket as she made her way to the second floor. Once there, she could immediately tell which bedroom to check. There was a stream of light peeking out from a room about halfway down the hall.

She headed that way, tiptoeing even though she knew it was slightly ridiculous. She was nearly positive that there was no one here. When she got to the door, she took a deep breath, grabbed the doorknob, and twisted. It turned easily. She pushed the door open.

The bedroom was huge and it took a moment to orient herself. The bed was at the far end and she made her way there, walking slowly. She was about a third of the way to it when she stopped. There was someone in the bed—a man.

Her face flushed with embarrassment and she was about to rush out when she noticed something. The man, lying on his back in slacks and a dress shirt, wasn’t Robert Patel. Ignoring the section of her brain screaming at her to get out of there, she took another step forward. And then another.

Suddenly, she heard herself gasp. She recognized the man. It was Mark Tropper, another neighbor. In fact, he was the husband of Belinda Tropper, the woman who had accompanied Melanie Patel on the girls’ trip to Catalina. What was Mark Tropper doing in the Patel home, all by himself, sleeping in their bed, when the homeowners were out of town?

Then an idea popped into her head. What if Tropper wasn’t alone? What if Robert Patel’s claim of shoulder soreness was an excuse to return home early and engage in some sort of homosexual union with Patel? What if Patel was in the bathroom right now, preparing to come out and slide under the covers?

She should head out now, before it was too late. What if Carmine suddenly barked and Patel came out of the bathroom? Or Tropper woke up? If that happened, how would she justify herself? And how would she explain any of this to Melanie Patel? It would be mortifying for everyone. She had to leave.

Before turning to go, she took one last glance back at Tropper. That’s when she noticed something she’d missed before. The man’s head was turned at an extremely odd angle, one that looked so painful that she couldn’t imagine how he managed it.

Against her better instincts, she took a step closer. Carmine pulled at the leash, trying to get back to the door. She tugged him forward. Then she noticed something else. Tropper was completely still and silent. No chest-expanding exhales. No snoring. A cold pit materialized in her stomach out of nowhere. She disregarded it and took another step.

That’s when Carmine barked. Startled, she jumped slightly. But Tropper didn’t react. Sensing that something was very wrong she moved closer to the bed. Carmine continued to bark and tried to scramble away.

She was just steps from the bed now. That’s when she saw it. A giant, deep red stain covered Tropper’s neck and the collar of his shirt. It looked like he’d been…cut?

Diane finally allowed herself to accept what she was seeing. And when she did, she began to scream. The sound, along with Carmine’s relentless barking, echoed through the house. But Mark Tropper still didn’t move