“Sorry, Nicole, but I’m golfing in a few minutes.”
See, that’s what I mean. Ginger is a princess.
“Ginger, your grace and style are matchless. Besides, we need a model that understands the French couture we’re showing today. We have the latest from Pierre’s. Won’t you reconsider?”
Ginger’s jaw tightened. I could sense her inner dilemma. She didn’t want to hurt my feelings or give up golf, but a primary passion also drove her. Ginger not only loved gorgeous dresses, she couldn’t resist wearing one whenever she had the opportunity. The clothing called to her. I knew the dress she’d lent me had whispered a siren’s sigh in my ear the whole time I wore the garment. I couldn’t imagine Ginger happily refraining from taking this opportunity. Especially as she’d bitched about not being asked by the committee during the event planning stage.
I chose to help her make the right decision. “Ginger, you know Katie and I would love seeing you wearing the latest French fashions. You should help out.”
She bit her lip, but I saw the flash of gratitude cross her face. “I guess I can help. My golf partners left a few minutes ago. I probably won’t catch them before they tee off.”
Nicole smiled and stood and without looking at Katie or myself, thanked Ginger and left.
Now that we had a personal fashion show connection, Katie and I would cheer, whistle and stomp for Ginger at the luncheon. Our actions would not only support our friend, they’d tick off Nicole. We couldn’t go wrong.
Chapter Seven
I spent the rest of the morning on tax paperwork, inventory, and ordering supplies. My bank balance usually hovered on empty, but if everything went well, I’d make my bills again this month. Dolores had offered me breaks when I couldn’t meet my rent on time after I started out. I didn’t want to backtrack and hated being in her, or anyone’s, debt.
Katie and I met at the country club, but this time outside a smaller private room than the one used for the dinner dance the previous night. Once again, Nicole sat behind the reception desk. I wondered if she comprised a one-woman reunion committee. Wouldn’t surprise me.
“Ladies.”
The sarcastic tone she used didn’t escape Katie or myself. We chose to take the high road and ignored her snark, knowing we’d get revenge later.
Choosing a table furthest from Nicole, we sat with four former classmates who lived out-of-state. We caught up and cooed at baby photographs. None of the babies were ugly, a true relief to me and I knew, Katie. I couldn’t honestly compliment the mother of a jug-eared kid with blotchy skin. A comment about being handsome like the baby’s father often backfired. Besides, everyone in town knows I can’t lie worth a damn.
The luncheon passed in a pleasant haze of white wine and chicken salad. After the waiters cleared the empty plates, we settled in for the fashion show. Which didn’t start.
I saw an opportunity to hit the bathroom before the lines got too long and took it. As I searched for the bathroom, I skirted the cocktail lounge just off the foyer. Two men were seated at the bar holding what looked like an intense conversation. Not so odd, except their builds and coloring reminded me of Travis and Brad.
I took a step toward the bar but before I could move further, a woman behind me offered assistance. After receiving directions, I turned and stopped. The two men had gone. I figured the duo may not have been my old classmates, anyway.
The ladies’ lounge encompassed its name—a place I could hang in for an hour or so. A large flower arrangement dominated the table just inside the door. Pink-hued marble tile covered the floor and the walls to chair rail height. Low lights with, surprise, a pink hue ensured the women who walked in would look their best. The marble countertops boasted small soaps and cloth hand towels, not paper towels in a dispenser. A separate area held individual vanities with stronger lights, make-up mirrors, and short, upholstered stools.
No one occupied the room, not even an attendant, though I could see from a cup of steaming coffee that someone had just stepped away. Criminy. Seemed a shame to use this room for anything other than lying on the fainting couch and reading romances while eating bon-bons. Yes, the space included an armless sofa. I wondered if anyone would notice if I moved in. Good thing I didn’t know about this room last night. I’d have found a way to lure Cam in here and lock the doors.
Really. All this opulence made me feel sexy. Also, my dark strawberry-blonde, green-eyed self looked really good in pink.
I stepped behind one of the louvered doors, happy the fixtures were porcelain, not gold-plated. If this room had proven any more opulent, I might have had to search out another bathroom.
At the sink, I washed my hands and used a towel. I looked around, not sure of what to do with the damp material.
I considered tucking the Egyptian cotton into my handbag when I saw a short laundry hamper beside the attendant station. Still unsure, I pushed open the top and dropped my towel onto the small pile already resting there. Then I scanned the table and my insecurities hit.
Holy Waterford crystal tip bowl. That’s why I hated upscale places. Should I leave a gratuity when the attendant hadn’t been present? Did you tip just because you used a towel? I didn’t know and my stomach churned.
Figuring I’d leave something, just in case she came back before I could exit, I pulled out my wallet. A five-dollar bill and some pennies were all I found. I’d have to stiff the woman.
When I turned to go, my handbag hit the coffee cup. I grabbed it before it tipped completely over, but not before java splattered my jacket and onto my slacks. Shoot. A quick scrub with a damp towel took care of the stains. I scooted out the door before I owed the unknown attendant a tip and a replacement coffee.
Sliding into my seat, I scanned the room, glad everyone still chatted while event volunteers scurried back and forth. Some of the volunteers reminded me of former cheerleaders or drill team members, but I couldn’t be sure. I hadn’t moved in those circles, and the intervening years hadn’t been kind to everyone attending.
Katie turned from the former classmate seated alongside her. “What took you so long?” She noticed my damp jacket. “Did you have a run-in with Nicole or did you take a quick dip in the pool?”
I shook my head. “Neither. Tip bowl.”
Katie’s forehead scrunched but before she could ask me another question, a microphone squealed. We jumped.
“If Nicole Polk is in the room, would she please report to the front?”
Katie and I craned our necks along with everyone else, but no Nicole stepped forward. Knowing her penchant for self-glorification, that seemed odd. We both shrugged and resumed our separate conversations.
Several minutes later, the same volunteer called for our attention. “We’d scheduled the fashion show first with dessert, coffee, and a selection of liqueurs afterward. Our announcer has stepped away, so to hold our time line we’ll switch the agenda.” She pointed at the well-built college-aged waiter standing nearby. “Bring on the sugar!”
Laughter swept the room. I nudged Katie and rubbed my hands together. The caterer’s desserts were renowned in Granville Falls. Katie had held up the probability of Elvis Pie in her arguments for assuring my attendance. Peanut butter, butterscotch caramel sauce, and chocolate toffee bar pieces all in a graham cracker crust. Yum, yum. If I didn’t get a slice of that pie, Katie would hear me roar.
My saliva had built up a good head of steam when screams sounded close by. Katie and I jumped to our feet, headed for the nearest door. Following raised voices, we ran down the hall, through a door held open by two white-faced waiters.
Katie slid to a stop in front of a third waiter. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Sounded like the screams could have come from the walk-in refrigerator.”
She ran in the direction of his pointing finger, yelling over her shoulder. “Call 9-1-1 now.”
Instinct had me following more slowly, afraid of what I’d see. Still, I kept Katie in sight and saw her halt
in the doorway. The walk-in refrigerator’s location around the corner from the kitchen hadn’t prevented most of the catering staff from collecting in the hall. Their ashen faces told me I shouldn’t approach, but I did anyway.
I gained Katie’s side and felt her trembling. Her shivers weren’t from cold. Mine weren’t either once I got a look inside the room.
A metal serving cart had tipped over with at least three Elvis pies sprayed over the floor. That gastronomic loss hadn’t caused the screams, however.
Nicole’s body lay face down on the floor of the walk-in refrigerator. It looked as if her face lay immersed in an Elvis pie. That alone could have been a horrific sight if not eclipsed by the handle of a chef’s knife sticking from her back.
Moving carefully, Katie approached Nicole and touched a pulse point. She shook her head and backed away from the body.
When she reached my side, I pulled her into a loose hug. “You probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“You’re right. It’s not like CPR would help her.” She looked at me, her eyes blinking fast. “I just couldn’t let her lie there without doing...something to help.” She shrugged helplessly.
Katie fumbled in her pocked, yanking out her phone. She hit a speed dial selection and within seconds had her party.
“Dirk, get over here right now.”
Nothing in her clipped tone could be confused with a seduction.
“There’s a dead body in the country club kitchen’s walk-in refrigerator. Nicole Polk.” She closed her eyes. “We’re fine.” In a softer voice she said, “I’m okay, but please hurry.”
Katie flipped her phone shut. Her voice faltered then strengthened. “Everybody move away from the door. Now. This is a crime scene.”
At her words, the wait and kitchen staff backed off. They muttered in low voices but didn’t leave the hallway. We stood in the doorway, figuring we’d discourage anyone else from entering.
My gaze surveyed the lined-up metal serving carts hosting an assortment of tortes, éclairs, and cheesecake tartlets. Along with the pies, a clear glass bowl holding trifle lay on its side on the floor. Whipped cream splatters decorated the knife handle. I realized that meant the trifle had been tipped over after the murder, when the perpetrator fled. Seemed like a panic move, because the noise would have attracted attention. Then I realized someone had acted fast in killing Nicole then avoiding detection. I hoped a witness had noticed the escaping criminal.
When the first responders arrived, the servers flattened against the wall but showed no signs of leaving. A few pulled out phones and snapped pictures of the paramedics wheeling in a gurney sporting a squeaky wheel. I realized then that the murder of a mayor’s daughter would cause a non-stop media onslaught.
Damn. Not again.
My penchant for sinful desserts would be taking a hiatus. Sugar ranked high in my coping mechanisms list. Now I knew I might never eat Elvis pie again. None of these developments left me happy.
Dirk strode directly to Katie, looking like he wanted to envelope her in a tight embrace but he held himself in check. Matt continued past with two patrol officers. I heard him issuing orders inside the walk-in refrigerator. Then Dirk touched Katie’s hand and turned away to work.
Poor Katie. Another dead body. Unfortunately, I knew how she felt.
She joined me. “Looks like you were right about Nicole as the target.”
Once the initial shock lessened, I’d had the same thought. “I knew I should have talked with Dirk, but figured the call could wait.”
“Not your fault.” Katie patted my shoulder. Her quick, soft touch meant more than a bucket full of words from anyone else. “I should have told Dirk what Fiona told us about Nicole’s fidgeting at her last fitting. I didn’t think it important. Now we know she must have had a reason for nerves. Who can tell what’s important?”
More patrolmen came in, and circulated, ushering everyone present into the kitchen. Katie and I grabbed seats, knowing the wait could be a long one. I didn’t watch the clock but was glad we’d usurped the chairs. My shaky knees and fast pulse guaranteed I couldn’t have stood upright for long.
Later, the gurney holding a zipped up body bag squealed past the kitchen door. A cop carrying an evidence bag with the pie followed.
Nicole and Elvis had left the building.
Katie and I exchanged glances, a good thing. I couldn’t have carried on a conversation. Seeing my long-time nemesis wheeled out left my mind blank, my emotions at a standstill.
That’s why getting called in for my police interview was the last thing I wanted.
Too bad I hadn’t a choice.
Chapter Eight
“Sit down, Maggie.” Dirk motioned toward a chair in front of his borrowed desk. I advanced into the country club manager’s office and took a seat. Dirk hadn’t smiled, so neither did I.
“Sorry we’re meeting again this way,” I blurted. Cripes, what a stupid thing to say. Apologizing as if I’d committed the murder.
He nodded and leaned back but kept his notebook and pen in hand. “Just start with when you arrived here today.”
Matt placed a bottle of cold water on the desk in front of me. Nodding thanks, I cracked it open and took a long drink before answering.
“Actually, I didn’t want any part of this.” I sipped my water, stalling for time. Dang, I just kept digging myself a bigger verbal hole. Now I needed to explain why I’d been at the luncheon after that thoughtless sentence opening. Otherwise, he may think my reasons for attending the event were murderous.
Telling Dirk about Nicole’s request of Ginger, and Katie’s and my plan for supporting our friend, had him nodding. Katie could have filled him in, though I didn’t know when they’d spoken together when I hadn’t been present. Could be he nodded to keep me talking.
He asked me a few questions, but I told the story without excessive interruption. When I arrived at the point where we found Nicole, my throat closed up. Dang. I hadn’t liked Nicole for years. Maybe never. But death is final, and I’d seen hers.
“Take your time.” Dirk motioned to Matt, who replaced my empty water bottle with a full one.
I swallowed my nerves and finished my recollection. He nodded again and studied his notes.
“Tell me more about your interactions with Ms. Polk.”
“You mean in addition to what you’ve already heard?”
He nodded.
I sighed. “We were polar opposites who’d fallen into a pattern years ago. Neither of us cared enough to break the mold we’d built.”
“Molded in what way?”
I thought he might understand better if I explained our history. Even though I’d moved on from high school stuff, my experiences there had influenced me.
“Nicole reigned as Miss Popularity. Prom Queen, head of the cheerleaders, the preferred date of quarterbacks and basketball centers. She ran with the in crowd.”
“And?”
“And nothing. We hung with different groups.”
“So tell me about Travis Knowles.”
My heart thumped hard and my stomach muscles twisted. Good thing I hadn’t eaten much. “Travis?” My voice sounded helium tinged again. “We dated. Again, you could have figured that out at last night’s dinner.”
Dirk’s fingers tapped a slow rhythm. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Didn’t think it mattered. Clarice hadn’t been friends with either of us.”
I swallowed my old sense of betrayal, wondering why memories still affected me when I’d been sure I’d resolved these issues. “In senior year, Travis won the Prom King election to Nicole’s Queen. They hooked up for the dance. Not a big deal.”
The detective’s expression told me he knew the history. “Maggie, small town gossip hangs around a long time. The story we heard differs.”
I set my coffee cup down harder than I intended. “Okay, so I argued with Nicole. We came to terms later.” Kind of. Her prom photos were all taken right profile to hide her blacken
ed left eye, courtesy of me. Yes, I had a temper I’d since mastered. Well, mostly had under control.
Dirk sighed. “Look, we don’t railroad citizens. Several people,” he paused so I knew they had to be bigwigs, “called me with the story. We check out all leads.”
I returned his sigh and doubled it. “Nicole seduced Travis. She made sure I saw it happen.” The image of Nicole lounging naked in her family’s hot tub while Travis sat close beside her had stayed in my memory banks. The bucket of cold water I’d emptied over her head had only made her gasp then laugh at me. Travis just watched, already turned to the dark side.
I’d never understood his traitorous behavior or her spiteful pursuit of any boy who looked my way. Instead, I’d stopped thinking about her actions years ago and simply stayed out of her way where possible.
Dirk cleared his throat. “Anything else?”
“Travis had been my prom date, but we broke up before the dance.” And after I’d given Nicole that black eye for a remembrance. “Look, that stuff happened fifteen years ago. Our paths rarely crossed. She shocked me when she called for an appointment.” I’d wanted to tell her no way. But I needed rent money and now I stood in deep poop.
“Have you seen Travis since he arrived in town?”
“You mean besides the dinner-dance?”
Dirk nodded.
“He stopped by my house the other night.”
Travis began his banking career in Chicago before starting the investment business he’d bragged about last night. I’d stayed home and nursed my mother. Had he not made a point of visiting me, or my friends forcing me to the reunion activities, there’d have been no chance we’d cross paths.
“Did you know he planned on attending your high school reunion?”
“No, we hadn’t talked in years. Besides, I wouldn’t have seen him. I hadn’t planned attending the reunion.”
Dirk’s fingers tapped again. “Is that because Nicole would receive the Most Successful Graduate Award?”
“No.” Yes. “Most of the events are being held at the country club. I don’t have the clothes, the money, or most important, the inclination to attend.”
Death Rub Page 7