Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [100]
Mary Theresa’s bedroom was a study in femininity. Decorated in varying hues of rose and pink, it housed a king-size bed covered in shimmering white silk, a grouping of tables and chairs, and an armoire that hid a large television and stereo system. On the walls were professional photographs of the woman who had evolved from Mary Theresa Reilly into Marquise. In subtle black-and-white or startling color, Maggie’s twin was visible from every possible angle. There were a few pictures of Maggie and more of Becca, her school and sports pictures propped on the night table and bureau top. Exotic stuffed animals from a life-sized llama to a coiled snake occupied the corners and crannies of the suite. Silk flowers offered color.
And yet the room seemed empty. Barren.
Thane glanced at the pictures without comment and Maggie wondered how often he’d seen them before, how many times he’d visited Mary Theresa’s bedroom.
She closed her mind to those thoughts and stepped into the bathroom, where a sunken marble tub was framed by huge windows screened by flowering orchids. Mirrors covered the walls and ran along a marble counter, where bottles of perfume, cologne, and cosmetics were strewn in haphazard fashion. Candles and potpourri scented the air.
Maggie picked up a bottle of cologne and wondered again where Mary Theresa was, what had happened to her. “Do you think she would try to take her own life?” Maggie asked as she replaced the bottle, picked up an atomizer, and smelled the tip, only to be reminded of her sister.
“Nope.” He met her gaze in the mirror and loosened the buttons of his jacket. “The woman I knew was too selfish to end it all. Too vain.”
“So you think she was kidnapped?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Ransom demands would have been made by now. It’s been over a week since she stormed off the set.”
Maggie opened the closet door and stepped into an expansive cedar-lined closet, where hundreds of pairs of shoes were kept neatly in their boxes, and dresses, skirts, evening gowns, blouses, and slacks, encased in plastic, hung perfectly. Sweaters were folded in drawers; T-shirts, shorts, and jeans were folded and tucked onto shelves.
“So what happened to her?” Running her fingers over a soft green angora sweater, Maggie tried to imagine what Mary Theresa had been thinking, where she could have gone. “And why do the police think you’re involved? Don’t try to deny it; you said yourself that Henderson considers you a ‘person of interest’ in the investigation, and I saw the way he looked at you today.”
“Like I was a criminal.”
Maggie inclined her head.
“It’s probably because we were married, divorced, but still saw each other once in a while,” he admitted as they walked down a hallway. “And the fight.”
“You said it was about money?”
“Mostly it was about lies. Mary Theresa was jerking my chain. I’d caught her in a lie.”
“About?”
“Something that happened a long time ago.”
She let it drop. Sooner or later he’d confide in her.
They opened the doors of the first of two guest rooms, an exercise room, and two more bathrooms that completed the second floor. The closet was filled with men’s clothes—suits, slacks, silk shirts, and several pairs of shoes. “Looks like Marquise’s boyfriend stayed over a lot,” Thane said.
“Boyfriend?”
“With an emphasis on the boy part. Wade Pomeranian. Her latest.” Thane scanned the contents of the closet with a jaundiced eye.
Mary Theresa had mentioned him in passing during their last phone call. He was younger, a model, Maggie thought. “You don’t like him?” she asked.
“The feeling is mutual.” Thane shut the closet door and walked into an adjoining bath, where shaving paraphernalia and men’s toiletries were arranged perfectly on the tile counter. Thane sneered at the half-filled bottles. “For the record, I think Pomeranian’s a snot-nosed kid who doesn’t give a damn about her but is hanging on because she has connections in the entertainment industry. He’s self-serving, vain, and a royal pain in the ass, but other than that a helluva guy.”
“Oh, come on, Walker, don’t hold back, what