Baby Brother Blues (Sammy Dick, PI Series: Book 1)

by Trudi Baldwin

  Swane continued, “This is, after all, a charity ball. Each and every one of you has made an incredibly generous contribution to attend this evening. Many of you are our long-time customers, partners, and friends who have supported Swann with your generous charity throughout the year. I thank you all!”

  Now I was in for another surprise, as Sylvester added, “Let me assure you that one hundred percent of every penny you have contributed tonight goes directly to ABM, the center I founded in Phoenix. ABM stands for Abused and Battered Mothers. It focuses solely on helping out mothers in abusive relationships to get back on their feet and away from their abusive relationships. ABM offers free counseling, career help, resume writing, assistance in obtaining childcare and much, much more in an effort to support mothers who need help extricating themselves from abusive relationships and moving them and their children out of harm’s way and into safer, healthier lifestyles.

  “We all know that abused and battered mothers are in complex situations. Things will not improve with just the snap of two fingers.” Sylvester snapped his fingers to underscore his point. “These women will not be able to free themselves easily. Psychological issues, economic pressures, lack of reasonable, childcare alternatives, career and education limitations, all of these combine to make it extremely difficult for an abused mother to breakaway and save herself and her children.”

  Sylvester paused then and grew silent for so long that the crowd began to shift about in their chairs expectantly, but then he broke his silence and continued in a throaty voice. “As many of you are unaware, I know these things firsthand because I grew up in the home of an abused and battered mom.”

  Apparently not everyone knew this, as I could hear a small gasp emerge from the crowd. They were spellbound. The other obvious question hung in the air: Was Sylvester also battered and abused as a child, as is so often the case?

  But Sylvester was not inclined to go there. He simply proceeded on the original tack, “I think I founded ABM in an effort to heal some of the pain and suffering I witnessed my beloved mother go through growing up. I am so grateful to each and every one of you in helping me support these women, so they can wrench themselves free from the desperate situations in which they are trapped. Those situations have many arms and just when a mother has freed herself from one, another closes in to entrap her, and that suffering always trickles down to her children.”

  Sylvester paused to clear his throat. “Your humanity, clearly demonstrated here tonight, not just in thought but in deed, gives the extra support that many of these mothers need to finally break free forever and save themselves and protect their children. I commend your generosity from the bottom of my heart, and I urge you to consider extending the same generosity you’ve already shown by also participating in our auction. We will be auctioning off some truly exceptional Swann-quality diamonds tonight in an array of jewelry settings: rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces and more. Please consider being generous and free with your support. These women and children suffer abuse beyond most of our imaginations.” He halted and swallowed slowly, then concluded.

  “Once again, I thank you all for your deeply generous support of ABM! Dinner will now be served, followed by the auction, with dancing throughout the evening that will last until 2 A.M. Enjoy, enjoy. You deserve it! Thank you for your extraordinary support.”

  The darkness lifted, and the quartet launched into a soft, intricate and sophisticated arrangement. We exited the stage with Sylvester, Glory, and Tomas, and moved across the room to sit at a table placed center front in the Elegante Room.

  I glanced longingly at my buddies, Geo, Delilah and my sorta buddy, Kathy, seated at a table across the room with some other banquet attendees. Even from faraway, I could tell they were laughing and being silly. A surge of wistfulness swept through me. I felt like when I was a kid and forced to sit at the Grown Up Table, usually after I’d been naughty.

  Oh well, if I was condemned to sit at the Grown Up Table, I may as well use my time like a grown up, doing my job. Besides, the men and women at the Grown Up Table were fun to watch. Well-heeled, well-traveled and well out of my league, but perhaps I could learn something to help our investigation. I began to scrutinize each person at our table of twelve. Sylvester sat in the center facing outward toward all the guests, kind of like Jesus at the Last Supper, with all the Apostles gathered ‘round. The round table was set up formally, alternating male and female guests, six females and six males, but not all had chosen to come with dates. To Sylvester’s immediate right sat Glory Strumheinnie, whose name made me giggle. Well, I would have giggled if I were at the Kids’ Table, but I sucked it in and continued to assess my dinner partners.

  To the right of Glory sat Tomas, who had come without a date. Interesting. I assumed Liang was with Mai and their father, since Liang was noticeably absent from the festivities. Next, my eyes alighted on a younger, weaker version of Sylvester. This must be Sonny, Sylvester’s little brother. Beside him sat a lovely, but somewhat sniveling-looking little blonde female, dressed all in black. Seated next to her was a brown-haired gentleman with a dark sliver of hair descending vertically from his lower lip. He had bright, beady, nearly black eyes like a fox. I named him “Soul Patch.” His eyes caught mine, blinked, then darted around the room with an arrogant, hungry look. Soul Patch had a nondescript date dressed in quiet beige satin with dishwater-blonde hair and a crook in her nose. He was paying her no attention whatsoever. Next to Dishwater sat the lordly Karl Zaiid, exuding his dark machismo. Karl’s date for the evening sported ravishing, black hair in jumbo-sized curls that fell all over her shoulders. She wore a blood-red, strapless velvet gown, gathered between her breasts with a big whopper of a diamond broach that sparkled in the Elegante Room’s lighting. The overall effect was enhanced by some kind of magical push-up bra that I began to covet. Was it poor taste to ask her where she’d bought it? Probably not good dinner conversation. Once I forgot about her bra, it became increasingly difficult not to think about Karl’s half-erect member that had unwittingly been thrust in my face just the day before in our horseback-riding adventure. I sneaked a peek back at Zaiid’s face, suppressing a nearly overwhelming desire to burst out laughing. Since I was at the Grown Up Table, I sucked that in too, maintained a straight face and scoured Zaiid’s eyes to see if he suspected me of being the red-haired cowgirl. Luckily, Karl seemed to pay me no heed. I sighed in relief. The cowgirl disguise had done the trick.

  Dinner had not yet arrived at our table, though I could see the servers were beginning to serve the other guests. Apparently the Last Supper table really was the last supper table. We were going to be served last in deference to the high-paying guests.

  At this point Michael, who had been conversing pleasantly with Zaiid’s date, turned to face me. He seemed to pick up on my boredom and reached his hand out. “So, Tina, it looks like our dinners are a long way off. The quartet is playing a Viennese waltz and the dance floor is empty. Would you care to join me in a dance?”

  Inwardly, I shouted Hell, yeah! I took Michael’s hand gingerly, and stepped eagerly in the direction of the dance floor. He led me boldly to the center of the empty floor. Placed his right hand firmly under my left shoulder blade and extended my right arm out with his left. For one frightening instant I tried to recall if I really did know how to do a Viennese Waltz, but what else could I do at this point but fake it?

  So we held our heads high, pressed our shoulders back and began to sway and swirl around the floor in the most classical of all dances. Michael proved to be a graceful, musical, confident lead, and for a few moments I regretted that I’d chosen to wear a micro mini, rather than a full-length, flowing dress as we whirled and swirled around the polished wood floor to the rise and fall of the music. Apparently I did know how to do the Viennese Waltz somewhere in my deep muscle memory because we flowed together in a grand, sensuous rhythm. The parade of swans in the air rotated in the opposite direction, making me dizzy. Almost all eyes in the room were on us. W
hat a glorious, glorious ride!

  Chapter 27

  When the waltz concluded, the Kids’ Table, brimming with my friends, stood up and gave us a standing ovation. Their action caused a ripple effect throughout the crowd and the rest of the room rose from their seats and joined in the rousing ovation. Michael and I performed a mock bow and returned to our seats. I was flushed, alive with the pleasure of the dance and the applause, and Michael beamed as we settled ourselves back at the table.

  Sylvester was smiling too. “Well done, both of you! Tina, I would love the pleasure of dancing with you later.” Then he remembered Strumheinnie beside him and added, “That is, after I have the pleasure of dancing with Gloria first.”

  Sylvester’s gaze then scanned his table. “I apologize. I forgot that not everyone knows each other, so I will make introductions.” Sylvester proceeded clockwise around the table, introducing each of us with a short, charming description. My guess had been correct: the younger version of Sylvester with the weak chin was, in fact, his baby brother, Sonny. Soul Patch, with the beady fox-eyes, was the other guest who most held my interest. He was introduced as Stephan LeGrande, pronounced the French way with the stress on the second syllable for both parts of his name. Stephan spoke with a French accent, too. I thought he looked slimy, but worldly. All in all, I decided, there was a very cosmopolitan array of guests at our table.

  When the introductions were complete, the salads finally arrived. Even the salads displayed the overall theme of the Swann Ball. Nestled in the center of each salad sat a lovely little vegetable swan, designed out of a carrot peel for the arched neck and head. The body consisted of a radish, rose-cut to look like feathers. Two small, light green lettuce leaves fanned out from the body on each side to form the wings. This elaborate creation was surrounded by dark red leaves, simulating the nest. Talk about branding!

  I could barely appreciate it though, because, by this time, I was starving, so I dug into the swan’s wings and ravished its nest with vigor, trying not to munch too loudly as I stuffed the dainty little salad into my mouth. In seconds, I’d quickly snarfed down every bit of the cutesy swan and her nest, except for the rose-cut radish body which I left bobbling all alone in the center of the white salad plate.

  No way was I going to eat a radish! No matter how hungry I was. With nothing remaining on my plate, I finally looked up again around the table and realized everyone else was picking away demurely at the edges of their salad. All their swans were still intact and the nests barely disturbed. Quiet, civilized dinner conversation was occurring. I wiped my mouth with my napkin. Glanced around the room to try and gauge how long it would be until the entrees might appear at our table. The servers were nowhere in sight. Oh well. I decided to pay attention to the dinner conversation.

  Sonny and Stephan appeared to be friends, or at least business partners. Sonny was talking about the construction company he owned and Stephan was talking about international real estate and construction projects he managed. Apparently, Sonny was constructing a project for him now in the Valley. Stephan seemed to be trying too hard to win favor with Sylvester. Good luck, I thought. Sylvester will assess your business down to the nth degree, and then if he finds it worthy, and it fits in his plans, he might take the time to talk to you. Fawning all over him was not going to work. In fact, it might be counterproductive, I thought, watching the barely concealed disdain growing in Sylvester’s eyes. Stephan was too in love with his own stories to notice.

  The quartet switched to a slow number and Sylvester abruptly cut Stephan’s long-winded showboating off by turning to Gloria and extending his hand. “May I have this dance?” She smiled seductively and rose. Stephan sat back, dumbfounded at the abrupt end to the conversation.

  Michael turned to me and raised his eyebrows. I smiled and rose from my chair. Others joined us on the dance floor for the slow dance. Michael smelled good and I could feel his well-defined musculature under his tux while we swayed to the rhythm.

  In fact, dancing with Michael felt a little too good and I decided it would be prudent to interject Mai into the conversation.

  “So how long will Mai’s father be in town?” I asked.

  “He usually leaves and arrives unexpectedly, with no forewarning, and doesn’t even tell Mai or Liang about his travel plans.”

  “Our research says he’s from Hong Kong, but his business connections seemed spotty. What kind of business is he in there?”

  Michael thought about this for a moment. “His business is almost as mysterious as his arrival and departure times. All I can tell you for sure is that whatever he does, he appears to make a lot of money at it. I’ve heard rumors of connections to the Chinese mafia, but I don’t know for sure, and Mai gets very vague if I start to probe along those lines.”

  “Hmmm, fair warning for me when talking to her. How does she get along with her father?”

  Michael was silent for a beat or two as we danced. I figured I was getting too personal or striking a nerve. Maybe both. Finally, I felt his body stiffen. He leaned in even closer to my ear and gushed in a harsh whisper, “To put it bluntly, Sammy, her dad’s a cruel, heartless and demanding man. For my part, I’m very glad he lives so far away. Both Liang and Mai try desperately to win his love, but from my vantage point, it’s a hopeless position for either of them. The man loves money and power, not his children. It’s a point of view I keep to myself, though. Why throw salt in a wound that’s been festering all their lives?”

  Yikes! As if to illustrate his point, Michael swung me out in a neat little turn and then brought me back into the fold of his arms. Then we continued smoothly around the dance floor. Michael had grown quiet again, so I ventured another question. “So how about their mother? How often does she visit?”

  “Never. She’s afraid of flying. She almost never even ventures out of her home, and I think Mai’s dad likes his freedom on his trips. In fact, there’s some suspicion that Mai’s not her biological daughter.”

  This was news to me. “What do you mean?”

  “Doesn’t it seem strange to you, now that you’ve met her, that she could have such an unremarkable, reticent mother?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Rumor has it that Mai’s father, whose name is Hu…”

  I butted in before he could complete his sentence, “Hu?”

  “Yes, Hu.”

  “Geo conducted some research on the man, but for some reason we never came across that name. It may have some bearing on our investigation. Why wouldn’t we find the name Hu?”

  “Because he just goes by the name Hu. His real name is Liang Huong Chen, which he shortens to Hu.”

  “Oh, well, I’m going to tuck that away in my memory bank because it may be important.”

  Michael responded to my unexpected interest. “You think Hu has something to do with our lack of profitability?”

  “It’s one of the angles we just uncovered as a possibility yesterday, albeit a long-shot.”

  “Please put your findings in your official report for this coming Friday.”

  I gulped, hoping we’d have enough information by then to make an official report.

  Michael continued, “As I was explaining before you made me take a Hu-turn.”

  This made me giggle. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, Michael.”

  He sighed, “I think my suspicions about my wife, that you have laid to rest, have been taking their toll on my sense of humor. I’ve been vacillating between melodramatic and morose. Hopefully, as you continue your investigation, I’ll recover even more of my sense of humor and well-being.”

  “Hey, that might be worth as much as the great pay!”

  Michael pulled me closer in a firm, friendly way. His cologne filled my senses as he finished the fascinating story he had begun. “As I was saying, Hu has a powerful and beautiful courtesan lover. They’ve been trysting, not so secretly, for years. He keeps Mei-ying, the courtesan, in a penthouse apartment with a sweeping view of Hong Kong and th
e harbor. All of it’s got to cost a pretty penny or yuan.

  “Anyway, the rumor, which has never openly been confirmed, is that Mai and Liang have different mothers. Guess which of the two might have the courtesan mother? Mai, of course. Especially if you see a photo of Mei-ying; to me it’s indisputable. But as far as Mai remembers, she was always raised by Hu’s wife, whose name is Ushi. Both Liang and Mai adore Ushi, but they fly to Hong Kong to see her because Ushi’s either unwelcome or chooses not to accompany her husband, Hu, on his visits here, or anywhere for that matter.”

  “Wow. What a complex web we weave! Or Hu weaves, at any rate.”

  The music died away and Michael led me back to our table. The servers were just sliding huge white, gold encircled plates laden with lobster and steak and some kind of magnificent cheese-encrusted, twice-baked potato in front of each of us. Oh, boy! I tried not to knock Michael down in my rush to get seated. A delicate glass container of melted butter hovered over a flickering flame at each individual’s place setting. I extricated my lobster tail from its boiled armor, sliced off a hefty piece of the moist, white meat and dunked it like a donut into the melted butter. Then I squirted a healthy dose of lemon on the hunk and jammed it with a fork into my mouth. Heavenly day! It was good. The first bite alone was worth the $1000 I didn’t have to pay to get here.

  While I chewed, I sneaked a peek at the Kids’ Table. They were all chowing down too and trying not to talk with their mouths full. I winked at Delilah. She winked back, but couldn’t smile much because her mouth was too full. I would have winked at Geo, maybe even Kathy, but their backs were to my table.

  The folks at my Grown Up Table carried on polite conversations while I was silently wolfing down the delicious fare. No one seemed to notice, or, at any rate, they were too civilized to let on. I did catch Sylvester’s eyes on me once. He was smiling an odd smile. I figured it was a combo of attraction, fascination and distaste. I smiled back, hoping my lips weren’t glistening with butter, like some kind of new-fangled lip gloss named Eau Duh Butter!