by Gale Deitch
Even in my anger, I could appreciate the warmth of Ally’s restaurant as I walked through the door. Her concept of healthy comfort foods at Savor had been a welcome surprise in this upscale Bethesda community. A vibrant weekend lunch crowd filled most of the tables along with the buzz of conversation, the clinking of silverware against china, the scent of savory thyme mushroom soup and oven-fried chicken tenders, grilled turkey burgers and spicy sweet potato fries. The stream of patrons had been steady since its opening four months earlier.
I saw no sign of Ally in the front of the house, where she often greeted customers, or in the kitchen, which was open to view from the dining room. So, I headed to her office, knocked, and opened the door.
Ally looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. When she saw me, she sprang from her seat to give me a hug. “Trudie, you’re here.”
I couldn’t help but get a whiff of her silky blonde hair, a fresh, clean fragrance that I couldn’t quite identify. I’d always meant to ask the name of her shampoo, but it never seemed the right time. Now wasn’t the right time either.
She sniffled in my ear then stood back, holding onto my shoulders. “Trudie, you have to speak to Zach for me. He won’t take my calls. He’s so angry.”
I took a deep breath, trying to contain my wrath. “Ally, he won’t take your calls because you hurt him, just when he was beginning to trust you.”
Her eyes filled and she dipped her head. “I know. But I never meant to hurt Zach. I love him.”
I stood facing her, hands on my hips. “Then why did you insist on reconnecting with Ben last night? What did you think you were going to accomplish? Didn’t you think you were risking your relationship with Zach if he found out about it? Which he did.”
I tapped my foot, waiting for an answer.
She looked down at the floor and then up at me and shook her head. “I don’t know. It was a stupid ego trip. That’s all it was. But Trudie, you’ve got to help me get through to Zach. Please.”
I bit my lip and inhaled deeply before speaking. All I could think about was Zach’s email message, his hurt feelings seeping out from between the words like melted cheese from a grilled sandwich. “I can’t help you, Ally.”
“What do you mean? Why?” Her azure eyes were wide.
“Zach isn’t coming in to work for the next few days. Says he needs time to think.”
“So, call him and talk to him.”
“He said not to contact him.”
“What am I supposed to do then?” Ally asked, holding her hands out to me.
“For God’s sake, Ally. Give him space. When he’s ready to listen, you’re going to have to try to convince him to trust you again. That will be your job, not mine. You’ve hurt him more than once.”
She turned around, extracted a tissue from the box on her desk, and blew her nose. “I guess you’re right.”
“Speaking of trust,” I said. “So, you had an affair with Ben. How come you told me it was only a one-night stand? Why did you lie to me about it?”
Ally blew out a ragged breath and sank into her chair. “It was Ben. He asked me not to tell anyone. He needed some time off from the book tour. He gave his publicist the excuse that he had the flu and cancelled the next few bookings. I met him in his hotel suite whenever I could, even skipped some classes to see him.”
“But you told me you were upset that you hadn’t heard from him after the first night.”
“I didn’t want to lie to you, Trudie. But Ben didn’t want to ruin his reputation. Plus, he was married with a couple of kids.”
“He told you that?”
“Well, it was public knowledge. It was in his bio on the back of the book, for heaven’s sake.” She gestured to her copy of Hammered Halls, the one Ben had signed ten years before. It sat turned over on her desk with the back jacket depicting a photo of the author in his younger years.
“And it didn’t bother you that he was married?”
“Yes, it bothered me. But I was young, and it was exciting. He was so intelligent, so interesting, so experienced. I was bored with the immature college guys I dated. And there was always the possibility, that maybe—just maybe, he would choose to leave his wife for someone like me.”
I put both hands on her desk and leaned toward her. “You really believed he would leave his wife?”
“Well, I realized later when he left town and I never heard from him again that I’d been pretty naïve.”
I huffed. “Naïve is one word for it. But Ally, why didn’t you ever tell me about the affair? Even years later?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. He was your favorite author and you had your own crush on Ben. I didn’t want to taint your opinion of him or hurt you any more than I already had that first night. I never found the right time to tell you. After a while, it didn’t matter anymore.”
“But it did matter, and still does matter. It was a lie that stood between our friendship all these years. I suppose you had good intentions for sparing my feelings, but that doesn’t make up for your dishonesty.” I wondered what else she’d kept from me that I should know.
“I’m sorry, Trudie,” she said in a meek voice. “Please forgive me.”
I crossed my arms. “How can I trust you to be truthful to me from now on?”
She held up her right hand as if being sworn into a witness box. “Trudie Fine, I promise I will never lie to you again.”
I hesitated. I was sure Ally believed her own words and had good intentions. I’d known her long enough to still have that trickle of doubt. I supposed I’d always have to be a little wary around her, testing her actions like pricking a roast chicken to see if the juices run clear.
But we had a history. Ally had been the one to show me how to accentuate my best features with clothes and makeup. She’d instructed me through my limited dating life. She’d never been embarrassed to have me with her at a party or a club as other girls had been. She had also confided that I was the only real girl friend she’d ever had. Women don’t necessarily care for the ones who always get the guy, which was Ally’s modus operandi. Ally was a true friend to me.
I sighed and nodded. “Okay. I guess I’ll have to forgive you.”
I recalled watching her dress down Ben last night in the hallway and chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“I was remembering your argument with Ben last night. After hearing what he said to you, we can both agree on one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Ben Knight is a real donut-hole.”
From Ally’s restaurant, I drove north on Wisconsin Avenue to my office, a rented space with a warehouse and loading dock in an industrial park in Rockville. It was a typical busy Saturday, and the heavy traffic made what should have been a fifteen-minute trip take twice as long. It occurred to me that I should have gone to the office first to see if Zach was there even though he’d said in his email that he needed time away to think. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier?
I pulled into my parking space. The catering van was there, but no sign of Zach’s car. Maybe he’d left a note for me. My desk, however, held only the files from last night’s event. No note or envelope from Zach.
I opened the door to the adjacent warehouse and stepped inside. Even in his distress, Zach had been his usual responsible self. He’d replaced all the dishes, glasses, and cutlery in their appropriate spots on the shelves and three laundry bags stuffed with the dirty tablecloths and napkins were ready for Monday’s pickup by the linen service.
Normally, Zach and I would be sharing our observations about the menu, the timing of the event, and the performance of the staff. We’d be celebrating the success of the function and brainstorming about ways we could improve for future events.
But now, standing by myself in the middle of the warehouse, I felt alone and bereft without my partner. The silence weighed on me like metallic beads covering a pie crust to keep it from rising in the oven.
I trudged back up the f
ew steps into the office, sat down at my desk, and turned on the computer. A bubble of hope floated up into my chest as I checked the emails. Maybe Zach had sent a new message. I scrolled down the page but saw nothing from Zach. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked my personal emails. Nothing new.
I opened his email on my phone to see if I’d missed something, some clue to his mindset. “Don’t be angry, Trudie, but I won’t be in the office today. I need a few days to think. I thought I could trust Ally. But now I know she will never change. I’d go away if the police hadn’t told everyone not to leave town. Please don’t try to contact me. And don’t worry. I’ll be back at work in plenty of time to help with the Spring Fling sorority event next Saturday.”
I sighed. I’d just have to give Zach some space and go on without him. He’d said it would only be a few days. I pulled up the computer file for last night’s dinner to complete the spreadsheet. The invoice for final payment, which was usually collected at the end of the event, still sat folded in my purse. I pulled it out, checked it over, and addressed an envelope to Belinda Scott, the conference chairwoman.
There was a rap on the door. We often met with clients in our office for planning purposes and tastings, but unscheduled walk-ins were rare. “Come in,” I called.
The door opened and in walked Ben Knight.
Chapter Five
“Trudie Fine, I presume?” Ben Knight stood inside my office, a mirage that emerged like cotton candy from spun sugar. He was dressed much more casually today, his blue plaid shirt worn open over a white tee. His jeans were a light wash and his cowboy boots replaced by a pair of Nikes.
“Yes, that’s me.” My voice squeaked out the words.
He pointed to the chair in front of my desk. “May I sit?” he asked.
I felt my face flush at my lack of manners. “Of course. Have a seat. What can I do for you, Mr. Knight?”
“Call me Ben. And it’s more what I can do for you.” He flashed me a smile that caused my stomach to flip like a pancake.
“What do you mean?” Unless he wanted to fill in for Zach for a few days, I couldn’t imagine why Ben was in my office and what he thought he could do for me.
His intense green eyes held my gaze a moment before he spoke. “Do you read my books?”
“Yes. I’ve read every one in your series.” Some more than once, I thought.
He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Then you know I have a combination of certain skills. Observation, analytical thinking, instinct.” The navy swoosh logo on his white shoe resembled a check mark, as if accentuating his words.
Ben was definitely an egotistical jerk, but sure, I’d agree to his assessment of himself. “What does that have to do with me?”
“It has more to do with your friend, Ally.”
“Ally?” Well at least he knew her name today.
“Myra Keating has publicly accused Ally of murdering Gwen. You and Myra both overheard Ally arguing with me in the hallway. What do you think about that?”
“Ally didn’t even know Gwendolyn Chong. Besides, she would never murder anyone, no matter how angry she was. Of course, I don’t think she did it.” I felt myself redden again, but more from anger than embarrassment.
“Nor do I,” he said, shaking his head.
A thought occurred to me, and I leaned forward and looked him in the eye. “I have some questions, Mr. Knight.”
“Ben,” he said.
“Okay, Ben. Why are you here? How do you know who I am?”
He gave me a wry smile. “I remember you.”
“From last night?” I asked.
“From the first time I met you ten years ago in Charlotte.” He steadied his gaze on me.
“From ten years ago? That’s the only time you ever laid eyes on me. That’s very unlikely.”
Ben bent forward as if about to reveal a secret. “Number one, I have a photographic memory. And number two, Ally spoke to me about you a number of times. She valued your friendship.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Last night, you couldn’t even remember Ally’s name, much less who she was.”
He nodded. “That’s what I wanted her to think.”
“Then why…?”
“Why did I pretend I didn’t know her? Our affair was amazing. Ally is amazing, someone I’ll never forget. But it’s been ten years. I’ve moved on. She’s moved on. I saw her with that guy of hers. It looks like he cares deeply for her and will give her the life she deserves, marriage, a home, children. I’m past all that. I didn’t want to lead her on or give her any hint that I might still care for her.”
“Do you?” I asked.
He glanced away then batted his hand in the air. “It makes no difference now. What is important,” he continued, bringing his attention back to me, “is saving Ally from an accusation of murder. Now who do you think might have done it?”
I realized I had my mouth open as I internalized all he’d confided to me. I shook my head and considered his question. I’d run the suspects through my mind over and over again, but I certainly wasn’t going to share my suspicions with Ben Knight. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I’ll let the authorities make that determination.”
“But you have some ideas in your head, don’t you? Who are the possibilities? C’mon, Trudie. You say you’ve read all my books. Who’s on the list?” He smirked as if egging me on.
I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of pulling me into this game of his and tried to be dismissive. “It could have been anyone at the event last night.”
“Okay. That’s a start. But be more specific. Narrow it down for me.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned toward me as if I were the prize-winning bass in a fishing competition. A rather large bass.
One thing I loved to do when I wasn’t cooking was to read mysteries, assess the clues and identify the red herrings. And the mysteries I loved solving the most were written by Ben Knight, the man sitting right in front of me. The temptation was overwhelming. And so I took the bait.
“All right. My first thought is Gwendolyn’s husband. You know what they say about the person closest to the victim. And if he suspected the two of you were having an affair….”
“Good,” he said, nodding. “Go on.”
“Then there’s our Miss Peacock, Belinda Scott.”
Ben put his head back and laughed out loud at the nickname I’d given her.
Encouraged, I went on. “Belinda was chairing the event, but from what Myra complained to me about, Gwendolyn Chong took over the entire event, invited members of your fan club which excluded many members of the Mystery Writers’ Association, and even took it upon herself to introduce you, the guest speaker. Which I suppose also points to Myra Keating as a suspect. Although I did see her walk back to the dining room after your argument with Ally.”
I paused.
“Then there’s you,” I continued.
“Me?” he asked. “Why me?”
“Maybe you had words with Gwendolyn last night. Maybe she wanted you to steal her away in your limo. Maybe she threatened to expose your affair. Maybe she was stalking you and you were fed up with it.”
With each statement, Ben lifted his eyebrows and nodded as if approving my thought process.
“Or, if you’ve had affairs with other women who were in the room last night, as Ally guessed you had done, the murderer could have been any one of them.”
“Good point,” he said.
I crossed my arms. “So, who do you think murdered Gwendolyn Chong?” I asked, turning the tables.
“It doesn’t matter who I think did it,” he said. “It only matters who the police believe is the murderer. They are going to continue their investigation, evaluate the evidence and the various statements, and then they are going to arrest your friend, Ally.”
I lurched back in my chair and shook my head. “Ally? No way. Why would they think she was the murderer?”
“There was something I,
and possibly others, witnessed. Believe me, the evidence will present itself to the police.”
Looking at Ben across from me with his smug smile and calm demeanor, I fisted my hands, wishing I had my own hammer to grab on to. “What did you witness? What evidence? I don’t believe you. Besides, Daniel and Will know Ally, and they know she is not a murderer. They would never arrest her.” At least, I didn’t think they would.
Now Ben’s eyes widened. “Daniel and Will, huh? You’re on a first-name basis with those detectives?”
I looked away from his waiting glance and then turned back to him. “Daniel Goldman is my fiancé.” The moment I said this, I cringed, wondering why I’d opened up to him this way.
Ben was silent for a moment as he took in this new bit of information. He snickered. “Well, that does put a wrench into my theory, doesn’t it?”
“Not really,” I said. “Why would you think that?”
“How can they conduct an unbiased investigation when they are personally involved with the suspects?”
I sat up straighter in my chair and lifted my chin. “I’ll have you know Detective Goldman and Detective Billings are both consummate professionals. Neither of them would ever let a personal connection influence them in solving a crime.”
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but I still have my doubts. Nevertheless, I came here today to help you save your friend.”
“I told you, Ally is not a suspect. And even if she was, how do you propose to save her? And why?”
“As I said before, evidence is going to point to Ally as the murderer. We both believe that this is not true. And since I have been told by your fiancé that I cannot leave town for a while, you and I are going to find the real killer.” He sat back in his chair with a self-satisfied grin on his face.
“You and I are going to do no such thing,” I said. “And I don’t know why you keep insisting that Ally is going to be arrested. Besides her argument with you that Myra and I witnessed, and that one comment Ally made, there is absolutely no evidence to incriminate her.” I folded my arms and leaned back in my chair.