Diana Racine 02 - Goddess of the Moon

them to a large living room. “ I’ll tell him you’re here . Make yourselves comfortable .” Then she left.
    “Jeez, will ya look at this place,” Cash whispered. “It’s like out of a magazine.”
    “Actually, it wa s,” Martin Easley said, entering the room. “ Architectural Digest featured the house after the renovations were completed last year. Sophia Reyes did the design. She’s amazing, really. Martin Easley . ” He offered his hand to the two cops.
    Beecher introduced himself and Cash. Easley motioned the men ba ck to their seats. Tall and lean, almost gaunt, Easley wore slacks and a short-sleeve knit shirt sporting the p olo -playing logo. His weathered look reminded Beecher of a lifelong mariner ― tan, crinkled skin, sun -bleached hair. But instead of confidence, Beecher noticed shaky hands with nails bitten to the quick.
    “What can I do for you gentlemen?” Easley said.
    “We understand you were recently in the company of Diana Racine.”
    “Yes,” he answered, eyes darting between the two cops. “Silas ― Mr. Compton ― invited Ms. Racine and her friend for a delightful evening a week or so ago. Why?”
    “Ms. Racine’s friend, Lieutenant Lucier, is our boss. They were invited to Mr. Compton’s house again. Now they’re missing.”
    Easley swallowed, his A dam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “How strange. My wife and I were als o invited to attend, but we had a previous engagement.”
    “Do you mind telling us where?” Beecher asked.
    Easley seemed at a loss for words, but he recovered. “ D oes it matter? I said we weren’t there. What’s this about, Detective? Am I under suspicion for something?”
    “No sir , but we haven’t been able to connect with your friends. They’ve all left town for the weekend and haven’t returned. We’d like to ask them some questions. The captain thought you or your wife might help us.”
    “I’d like to, but I haven’t a clue where they are. We’re good friends, but we’re not joined at the hip.”
    Beecher found the temperature in the house to be on the chilly side, but Easley was sweating like he’d just run a marathon . “Is there someplace you all go on either Mr. Compton’s private jet or on Mr. Crane’s? Some place se cret ? A hideaway, if you will ?”
    “Are you accusing me of complicity in the disappearance of your boss and Ms. Racine? Becau se that’s what it sounds like.”
    Easley ran a shaky finger across the top of his sweaty lip, glistening from the sun streaming in the bay windows. He acted nonchalant, but any idiot could see Martin Easley verged on falling apart . Beecher had never seen a thin man sweat so heavily .
    “Do I need a lawyer present?” Easley asked.
    “ Any reason why you need o ne?” Beecher asked.
    Easley squared his shoulders . “I know nothing about where your lieutenant is, nor do I know the where abouts of Ms. Racine . And since that seems to be what you’re implying, I think you gentlemen should leave. If you have further questions, make it official and I shall arrange a lawyer to be present.”
    Beecher rose and stood face to face with Easley. “I’m sure the captain will find that satisfactory.”
    Easley stuttered a few unintelligible words, and was about to say something when Anastasia Easley sauntered confidently into the room. Beecher was struck by her classic green-eyed beauty. Her dark hair swept loosely into a topknot around her fine-featured face. A silk caftan cut low enough to expose two assets many women would pay good money for, clung to the contours of her body as she floated into the room. Beecher forced his focus away.
    “There’s no need, Detective,” she said. “The fact is my husband is being gracious. We begged off Saturday because we really don’t believe in psychics. It makes us uncomfortable. Even if Ms. Racine is on the level, I’m not interested in knowing what will happen in my life, and neither is Martin. I made up the excuse to Silas that we had other plans we couldn’t break.” She exchanged glances with all three men. “Silas doesn’t like to be refused. Neither does my father.”
    “So you intentionally begged off.”
    “Yes.”
    “ Do you know where your friends are, Mrs. Easley?” Beecher asked. “The dinner was supposed to be at the Comptons ’ on Saturday, yet no one was in town Sunday morning, nor are they at their offices today.” Beecher paused . “The ladies are your sisters , correct ?”
    “Yes, but they don’t tell