“Hidden, not buried,” Sara said.
When the guests opened their mouths to speak, Sara held up her hand. “I don’t want to give any more details, but we’d like to hear what you remember about his disappearance.”
“And why you came here the first time,” Jack added.
No one spoke.
“We know that Derek invited all of you,” Sara said. “It was his party and we don’t think you came here because you liked the man.”
“Oh!” Rachel said. “Are you thinking of foul play?”
“Derek was...?” Lea asked.
“I believe she’s speaking of murder,” Reid said.
For a moment, everyone was silent.
“I think I’m beginning to understand,” Barbara said. “This is one of those Murder Weekends where you try to solve some crime.”
“Only this one appears to be real.” Reid leaned forward. “Do you have any suspects?”
Sara didn’t speak, just looked from one to the other.
“Us,” Rachel said. “You believe one of us murdered the man. Maybe—”
Lea spoke up. “In that case, I think I have to be your lead suspect. I despised my husband from the day after our wedding.” Everyone looked at her in silence. “I guess I should explain. When Derek and I married, I was quite young and I’d always been sheltered. And my father was rich.”
“You were a perfect target for a man like Derek Oliver,” Randal said in bitterness.
Lea smiled sweetly at him. “Yes, I was. After the marriage, Derek rapidly went through the money my father gave me. My husband had the belief that if anything good was going to happen to him, it would be because people thought he was so rich that he didn’t care about anything. Only his theory never worked. Anyway, just before we came here, he told me he was divorcing me. I believe he had someone else lined up.”
“I don’t mean to be disbelieving,” Kate said, “but wasn’t he old then? Was he very attractive?”
“Not physically,” Lea said, “but he could be persuasive. I believe it’s called ‘love bombing.’ I had no doubt that he could get another woman. And if he did, I knew his family’s lawyers would leave me penniless, destitute. However, if Derek died, I wouldn’t have to deal with divorce. I’d get to keep the nice big house he’d bought with my father’s money, and what was in the bank.”
“How did it work out for you when he was missing?” Sara asked.
Lea smiled warmly. “Splendidly. I had the house and two of Derek’s cousins moved in with me. We were all quite happy without him. Actually, I don’t believe he ever had a friend.”
While they were silently staring at Lea, thinking about what she’d said, Barbara spoke up. “That’s not a motive for murder! It certainly isn’t as good as the one I have.”
Everyone turned to look at her in interest.
“I assume that everything said here is to be kept private. It won’t appear in some tabloid? Or online?”
“Absolutely,” Sara said firmly.
“I too had an older husband,” Barbara said. “However, he and I had a marriage of understanding. In modern slang, I was his beard.” She paused to let people digest her meaning. “I made my husband look like what he wanted the world to think he was.”
“And what did you get out of it?” Sara asked seriously.
“My choice of any of the roles in any of the movies that his studio produced. I didn’t have to pay my dues with horror movies or be accosted by a lecherous director. My dear husband, Harry Adair, gave me protection and love and kindness.” She looked at each one of them. “And Derek Oliver was about to take all of that away. You see, he had done extensive research and he knew the truth about my husband and me. And well, perhaps there was a bit of lack of discretion with some young men and hush money had been exchanged.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “The point is, if all that were published, as that odious man threatened to do, it would probably have destroyed my husband.”
“And your career that was just getting started,” Sara said. “People would start wondering if your bit of success was based on merit or on covering up your husband’s peccadillos. Everyone knows that publicity can be slanted in different ways.”
With a raised eyebrow, Barbara looked at Sara in a haughty way that they’d all seen her do on-screen—just before she sent someone to their execution. “Writers! They can be such a bother at times, can’t they?”
Sara looked affronted, but when the others nodded in agreement, she said, “Hey!”
