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  I looked around at the tents and the crowds. The pink and the purpose. “This has been great, but it’s time to get back to the racing world and wrap up this season.”

  Tom walked up in time to hear my last statement. “Shall we go? The Night of Champions banquet awaits.”

  Chapter Forty-eight

  We got back to our hotels a little before noon. Holly and I had an afternoon date at the Chateau Élan spa before the banquet that night, and she opted for a nap first. I was tired, but I knew the questions rattling around in my mind would prevent me from sleeping. One concerned something Ellie’s husband Ethan had said, and I reached him at the cell number he’d given me.

  When he answered, I heard a horde of children in the background, shrieking and laughing. “Is this a bad time?”

  “I’m with my kids at a birthday party. Plenty of parents supervising, so I can talk.”

  “I wondered about something you mentioned. What was the new job you said Ellie looked forward to?”

  “SGTV cooked up a gimmick. Ellie and Juliana were going to pair up to cover the pits next year. They were going to promote the heck out of them—”

  “As the ‘pit princesses.’”

  “Right, you heard about it.”

  “Felix mentioned the term, but didn’t explain. Any idea where he’d have been?”

  “The booth, Ellie was told. Guess they’ll have to figure something else out now.”

  “Was that the goal you said Ellie had found?”

  “No.” He paused. “The goal was a year of sobriety. Ellie was a recovering alcoholic.”

  I was stunned into silence.

  “Surprising, right?” He gave a tired laugh. “I learned alcoholics are never who you expect.”

  “But, her job? Your twins?”

  “She was high-functioning. She’d cut back during her pregnancy, and the babies were on formula from day one for other reasons. She went back to her habits after they were born. That’s when I found out. She’d hidden it from me for years. From everyone.”

  “Was she drinking back when we were racing? I didn’t see it.”

  “She was good at hiding it. They usually are. Racing’s what started it—she said winner’s circle champagne was a trigger.”

  I remembered my surprise the first time we had champagne in the winner’s circle—I’d been fifteen. I’d taken a few sips, in between spraying the others on the podium, but Gramps quickly stepped in and took the bottle away. His later warnings to stay away from it until I was of legal age hadn’t been necessary, as I didn’t like the out-of-control feeling alcohol gave me. Later, I’d learned to enjoy a couple glasses of wine, but I’d never developed into much of a drinker.

  “I can understand that. So she got sober. She was in the Tavern with us—but she ordered juice.”

  “She was really proud of coming close to her year mark. We planned a special celebration, just the two of us with Sammy and Chloe. She was following all the steps, including reaching out and making amends. I don’t know all the details, but I know she’d reached out to a former fiancé who she said she’d treated badly.”

  I had to clear my throat to get the name out. “Stuart Telarday?”

  “I think that was it. And I know it was important to talk to you and Juliana.”

  “Do you know who else she talked to?”

  “I’m not supposed to know—or tell, since that’s her private business. But I found her notes, and it can’t hurt her now.” He gave me a dozen names, among which I recognized Stuart, Zeke, Rosalie, Juliana, myself, and Scott Brooklyn.

  “I don’t know what she wanted to talk to me about,” I said. “I don’t think there was anything she’d need to make amends to me for.”

  “I don’t know the details, but she’d had her heart-to-heart with Juliana, who forgave her. Ellie was glad to be free of that weight.”

  “You spoke with her when she was at the Tavern, didn’t you?”

  “Just before she died, yes. She was happy—thrilled at seeing the two of you. At being sober and part of the racing world again. At least she had those moments, and I have the memory.” He sighed. “You know, there were times I wondered if my life would come to this. If I’d have to raise the kids without her. But then she got better…I wasn’t prepared after all.”

  I offered him my condolences again, and we hung up. His information left me reeling. I wanted to talk to Juliana about her conversation with Ellie. I wanted to know Scott’s connection to Ellie—since he’d told me he didn’t know her. Most of all, I wanted to know why Stuart, once again, hadn’t told me a key part of the story.

  I put those questions aside and thought instead about the Lascuolas and the cranky cousins having been in Elkhart Lake and Atlanta. Dominic Lascuola particularly interested me, because he was one of only three people in both places who also had access to the race-winner’s special watches. Scott Brooklyn and Zeke were the others. Unless there were other race-winning drivers out there who’d been in Siebkens and Atlanta and hated me. I wasn’t sure I was getting anywhere.

  I got up to make some coffee in the two-cup pot, hoping the caffeine would stimulate some brain activity. My cell phone rang as the coffee started dripping.

  “Gramps.”

  “Katie, my love. How are you today?”

  “Tired, but doing better now I’ve put coffee on. I’m more awake from the smell.”

  “Best drink in the world!”

  I’d learned to love coffee from Gramps, who adored the taste and brewed it fresh all day long—caffeinated until noon, decaf after. Always black and hot, even in the dead of summer.

  “But not that iced garbage,” I parroted his favorite line.

  “You know me well. Congratulations on the podium, Katie! All of you put in a hell of a drive. How’d you feel about leading the first half hour of the race?”

  With Gramps I could crow. “Damn good—every second. Just wish I could have held on longer. That we could have won.”

  “Here now, don’t be greedy. Twenty cars in that class, and you ended up third. In a major, worldwide race. Nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, you finished second in the championship this year. That’s nothing to sneeze at either.”

  “You’re right. It’s something to keep pushing for.”

  “Good to have goals. Hang on, Katie, here’s Vivien.”

  A rustling, then, “Congratulations, Katherine. I was so proud watching you take the green flag and lead those laps.”

  “Thanks—and thank you for watching.”

  She tsked. “Racing’s not my choice, but it’s yours, and I support you. I certainly won’t miss when you’re on television and you put on such a good show.”

  “Me being out front was pretty cool, wasn’t it?”

  “Pretty cool, indeed.” The words sounded strange from her, and I laughed.

  She went on. “We’ll take you out to dinner to celebrate when you’re back home. Do you know your plans yet?”

  “I’ll probably be a couple weeks yet. Beauté wants to do the photo shoot at the Sandham Swift shop in the next week or two, and…” What to do about Stuart?

  “Will you spend time with that young man you’ve been seeing?”

  Grandmother was no fool. “I think I will, for a couple days. We have to talk some things out, see if this is going anywhere.”

  “Parents always want their children to know the joy of head-over-heels love. But we also want you to think things through and choose wisely. The hardest thing is finding someone you can trust as well as love. Someone who won’t bow to other pressures.” She paused. “Be careful with your heart.”

  “I’m being very careful I’m not hurt. I promise you.”

  “Good, that’s good.”

  “Grandmother? I mean that about Stuart and about my father.”

  Silence. I closed my eyes, a
fraid I’d pushed too far.

  Very quietly: “I know. Be careful.”

  More silence and then Gramps was back. “She’s out of the room now, Katie. I didn’t hear it all, but it sounded like progress.”

  “It was. I love you both, Gramps. Make sure you tell her I said that. I’ll see you in a couple weeks for that celebration dinner.”

  “Bet your boots, we will. Now knock ’em dead at the party tonight.”

  As soon as I set the phone down to pour myself some coffee, a chime heralded a message from my PR team. Matt and Lily announced media coverage of me had turned positive and would keep on improving. Even on racing blogs. As proof, they included a link to a Racing’s Ringer post, which I clicked on with trepidation.

  “Food for Thought About Kate Reilly,” the headline read. “Ringer Readers, tell me, have I been too hasty in dismissing Kate Reilly’s abilities and potential? I watched her this race weekend, and was grudgingly impressed with her driving ability and how she handles herself. Hmmmm, do I need to rethink Calamity Kate Violent? The Ringer does hate being wrong, but I hate being a hypocrite even more. Tell me, Readers, what’s your opinion?”

  I almost fell over with shock. What on Earth did I do to change his mind? The answer: nothing. I did my job, the same as every other race weekend.

  I raised my coffee in a toast. “Here’s to you, Ringer, for finally paying attention.”

  Chapter Forty-nine

  By mid-afternoon, I was in heaven. Holly had booked the works for both of us at the Chateau Élan spa: massages first, then facials, then manicures and pedicures. All set up for maximum relaxation and prettification. We’d get ready for the championship banquet at the spa, then drive around the corner to the Chateau Élan hotel for the event. She was the mastermind. I went where pointed.

  After our facials, we lounged in the wet eucalyptus steam room, which did a good job of clearing my sinuses, even if the rest of my body felt torpid.

  “I can’t remember feeling so relaxed, Holly.”

  “It’s about time. How are you feeling about Stuart?”

  I’d filled Holly in on my conversation with Ethan during our drive to the spa, and she’d obviously spent time thinking about it. As had I.

  I looked at the clock. “We’ve been in here five minutes.”

  “Let’s paddle in the whirlpool. You still have to answer.”

  “I know.” I covered my bathing suit with a towel and followed her to the co-ed whirlpool, which was steamy and deserted.

  I sank to my chin in the warm water and sighed. “Stuart and I need to talk, to spend time together when we’re not in the middle of a race weekend. I’m going to stick around for a couple days in his guest room. Now that the drama has died down—”

  “We still don’t know who killed Ellie and Felix. Who tried to kill you and Juliana.”

  “I know, but at least the world doesn’t hate me anymore—even the Ringer thinks he might like me. With the racing season done, I’ll have space to think.”

  Holly moved to the other side of the pool. “You really need to figure out what you want from him.”

  “I’m just so twisted up about him and Ellie. Do I know him if I didn’t know about their relationship? Why didn’t he tell me, and why is it so important to me? Is this just my excuse to push him away? On the other hand, even marriages I thought were perfect have turned shaky—who says a decision I make will last anyway?”

  “Who’s got you rattled?”

  “Zeke and Rosalie. He says she’s changed a bunch in the last year. He’s pretty freaked out. Get this, she’s even jealous of me.”

  Holly shook her head. “She’s not thinking straight.”

  “There’s more: she’s Ellie’s husband’s estranged sister, and she’s running Miles Hanson’s fan club.”

  “Maybe she tried to kill you.”

  “You can’t be serious.” I saw her shrug. “I don’t believe it. She wouldn’t do that. Besides, why would she want to kill Felix?”

  “Blackmail. It’s the only reason that makes sense for anyone killing him.”

  “I’ll probably burn in hell for this, but I don’t miss Felix at all.”

  Holly laughed. “Understandable. And a sad statement about him. He had his moments—he could be a nice guy and fun to be around. But I think there was pain underneath it all.”

  “Who do you figure they’ll replace him with?”

  “Scott Brooklyn would be the frontrunner now, wouldn’t he?”

  “I still think it’s suspicious he’s Johnny-on-the-spot, ready to capitalize on the elimination of two pit reporters. But Jules isn’t worried about him at all.”

  Holly laughed harder this time, and I moved around, uncomfortable. I didn’t think I’d said anything funny.

  “Oh, sugar.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “Don’t you remember? Last year at Lime Rock, when you took Wade Becker’s seat, you bristled when everyone pointed at you with similar suspicions.”

  I felt heat flood my face.

  Holly chuckled at my expression. “I’m not saying you’re wrong—I agree with you there’s something not right with him. But the irony struck me as funny.”

  “Sure. Great. Now I’m mortified.” I paused. “By the way, about possible suspects. Aside from the basics, the suspicious ones are Scott, Felix, George Ryan, Dominic and Colby Lascuola, and the cousins. Plus Nash Rawlings, the hateful fan club president. People who’d have access to a race-winner’s watch are Zeke, Scott, and Dominic.”

  “And Rosalie,” she added.

  “Rosalie?”

  “Sure, spouse or girlfriend would have access. Even sister, like Colby. And don’t be so sure someone with money and connections in the Series couldn’t get one—like your cousins.”

  “I still think it’s Scott.”

  “Why would Scott be after you? Or after Juliana?”

  I looked at her, my mind blank.

  “I’m thinking about motives,” she said. “Zeke: none. Rosalie: jealousy, Miles, whatever—but weak. Dominic or Colby: Colby would take your place. Cousins: money. But Scott? You’re not in his way. Assuming he gets the job next year, Felix was in his way. Ellie was in his way. Juliana might be. But the drink that killed Ellie was meant for you, right? Why would he be after you?”

  “Miles is his cousin.”

  “Revenge? Miles wasn’t dead. A crazy fan I could see getting freaky and wanting revenge, but a family member? Another racer?”

  “Jack said Scott might be someone he’d hire if I wasn’t on the team. Or maybe Colby Lascuola. Or some others.”

  “Maybe Scott tried to kill you for your seat—except there was no guarantee he’d get it. Colby now, she might have gotten your seat and your sponsorship.”

  “Someone had a reason to try to kill me—twice—and kill Ellie by mistake.”

  “Scott trying to salvage the second career he sees slipping through his fingers is more logical than because you gave his best friend a concussion.”

  I worked it out. “If that’s true, I wasn’t the target. Ellie was.”

  “Could be.”

  “Does the whole thing make any more sense if she was the target? There’s still the car in Atlanta and the damage to my suit and helmet. And the hospital press setup.”

  “None of those killed you, unlike the stuff in Ellie’s drink.”

  Did I see a new pattern? “Like the guys shoving me yesterday, maybe the car and the rest of it was someone taking any opportunity for mischief? Then it’s not about who benefits with me out of the way, but who benefits with Ellie gone.”

  “Scott for sure, at least if SGTV hires him next year. Probably not Dominic or Colby. Rosalie? Don’t know. Zeke, probably not.”

  “Except he was someone Ellie was going to make amends to. I can ask him, and about Rosalie.” I sighed. “This is still confusing. D
oes this mean I don’t need to watch my food and drink tonight?”

  “Get your own drinks, just in case. Now, enough. It’s time to clean up before our manis and pedis. Then we’ll get fabulous.”

  “You’ll get fabulous. I’ll get decent.”

  “In that dress? Sugar, you’ll be phenomenal. Eyes will bug out of heads tonight.”

  I’d rather have that effect from inside a car than a too-tight dress. I didn’t care what Holly said, I still wasn’t good at the girly thing.

  Chapter Fifty

  “@katereilly28: Heading for #ALMS Night of Champions. Looking forward to celebrating with Sandham Swift and sponsors. Thanks to all for a great year.”

  I tugged my skirt down as Holly and I stepped away from the car.

  “Stop that,” she hissed.

  I stopped, because tugging didn’t help when the issue was cling. I wore a “bandage dress,” which Holly had forced me to buy earlier in the year. Royal blue, knee-length, square neckline that wasn’t too low cut, cap sleeves. Tight. Tighter than the fit of my seat and belts in the Corvette. I had the same issues breathing in this dress.

  Holly told me that was nerves. Fear was another possibility, as I maneuvered on four-inch, glittery platform heels. Between the shoes and the dress, I had to slow my usual quick, heel-first stride. I had to mince. I felt like an idiot.

  The expression on Tom’s face changed my mind. He was the first person we saw, as we wove our way through class champion racecars on display to reach the grand entrance. His jaw actually dropped open in shock. “Holy shit, Kate, you look amazing.”

  Once again, Holly was right. Damn her.

  I heard a whistle behind me and turned to see Mike wiggling his eyebrows. “You look like a dirty old man, Mike.”

  He laughed and pointed to my chest. “Where’d you get those?”

  I looked down at my breasts, squeezed into view by the dress and the well-padded bra underneath. “Smoke and mirrors, my friend.”

  “Reilly, you look like a girl,” Mike said. “This is strange for me.”

  I understood. Holly had done big things to my hair and used nine makeup products to give me huge, smoky eyes. “For me, too.”