"Holy moly! Is that you, Alex?" Big Ron cried, interrupting his conversation with Tucker Sloan and nearly dropping his can of Budweiser.
Tucker did a double take as well. "Presto-chango, man. You're like a superhero. Mild-mannered flipper Alex Jordan by day, and superhot model by night. I am so diggin' that dress."
I smiled at their astounded expressions. "Why thank you, Tucker. You can call me 'Nora' for the evening."
George approached from behind, surprising me by wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my neck. "So glad you could join us, Mrs. Charles. What devilry have you been up to?" he asked softly against my ear.
I tried to ignore the goose bumps his warm breath triggered. I moved out of his arms, saying, "Why Nicky, it takes a girl time to look like this." I patted my hair.
Big Ron guffawed. "Perfect. You two are exactly like Nick and Nora Charles. My mom loved those old movies." He looked around the room. "This is some interesting shindig you're having."
I followed his gaze. It looked as though only Jack Condor was missing from the guest list. Frank Wolfe and Mr. VanSant chatted amicably by the marble fireplace. Alice was at Gram's side, discussing poor Larry's fall.
"Well, you know how Gram is when she gets an idea in her head. She can be pretty stubborn."
Big Ron and Tucker nodded. "So how's the whole mystery thing work?" Big Ron asked. My reply was interrupted by the blustering sounds of Jack Condor being escorted into the living room by Dolly.
"Craziest time to have a party," he muttered as he handed her his oversized cowboy hat. I noticed his hair was quite thin on top, and without the hat he appeared to be much shorter.
Gram paused her conversation with Alice to greet him. "So glad you could come, Jack." She offered him both her hands.
"Why, I wouldn't miss it for the world, Mrs. Jordan. I just can't believe we've never gotten together before." He glanced around the room. "What an amazing room! Truly one-of-a-kind workmanship in here. Perhaps you'll have time to give me a tour of the rest of the house?" he asked hopefully.
"Well, we'll have to see about that," she replied noncommittally. "We have quite an evening planned, you know. What fun—a mystery dinner."
Condor barely concealed his annoyance at being stuck at such a hokey event. I guessed his desire to check out Rockgrove outweighed being forced to sit through a mystery dinner with the likes of us.
"Sounds lovely," he replied. Frank Wolfe approached him, and he excused himself from Gram.
A bell sounded in the dining room. I glanced over at George. He looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary. I smiled back, just as satisfied with my little secret.
The guests quieted as Gram began to speak. "That's the dinner bell. Before we go in to eat, I just want to thank each of you for coming out on such a foreboding night. But perhaps it will help make our mystery a little more believable." She laughed, and everyone chuckled politely. "I'd like to introduce George Fontaine, playing the role of Nick Charles from The Thin Man series, as our master of ceremonies tonight. My granddaughter, Alexandra, will be assisting and playing the role of Nora Charles."
Everyone clapped as George stepped in front of the fireplace. "Thank you again," George said regally. "Before dinner, I'd like to go over a few guidelines for tonight's festivities. Each of you will play a role in the mystery. Information about your role is contained in the envelope at your place setting in the dining room. When we sit down, take a few minutes to acquaint yourself with your role, but please do not share your information with anyone. Once everyone is familiar with their role, I will describe the mystery that has occurred, and as we proceed through each course, you will offer clues based on the information you were provided with in your envelope. Remember, it's very important to stay in character and not to share any information with those around you. Because you never know, you may be seated next to the murderer." Thunder clapped outside and lightning flashed. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and nervous laughter flitted through the guests.
Everyone filed into the dining room, eager to find their seats and open their envelopes. I brought up the rear.
"A murder mystery dinner during a murder investigation, Wolfe," I heard Condor say as he passed. "That's just plain odd, don't ya think?"
Frank nodded. "Quite a cast of characters too," he replied with a glance around. I suppressed a laugh as I followed behind them.
George appeared at my side. "Pretty nice effects you had there."
He waved a hand. "Oh, that. It was nothing. Wait til you see what I have planned for later."
"Oh, I think there'll be lots of surprises tonight," I said, taking his arm as we entered the dining room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
George led me to my seat and held out my chair before going to his own at the far end of the table in front of the roaring fireplace. Most of the guests were sipping wine and reading their instructions.
Frank Wolfe and Jack Condor were deep in conversation, and neither had opened their envelopes.
I took a gulp of wine and tore mine open. It read: My Darling Nora, I have good news. The diamonds are back in my possession. I glanced up at George. He avoided my look, and I went back to reading. Now, don't get mad that I didn't tell you sooner. They were responsible for a murder. The less you knew the better. After tonight, the murderer will be in custody. I need you to be yourself and keep your eyes open. There is no doubt the murderer is here tonight. Your loving husband, Nick. P.S. I can't wait to see what's under that fabulous dress.
I caught George's eye and gave him an annoyed look. I waved the letter at him and mouthed not a chance.
He shrugged and gave me a smile.
"Seems like you're missing a guest, Fontaine," Jack Condor said as he ripped open his envelope.
"Yeah," said Tucker, leaning over the empty seat next to him. "And the place card's blank. Spooky, dude."
George shrugged. "You never know who might show up tonight." The thunder clapped, and lightning flashed wildly across the room. Smitty cursed loudly and flapped about his cage.
The guests seemed a little surprised to see a parrot in the dining room.
"Far out," said Tucker. "That's one rad bird."
"Oh my," murmured Alice, and she tossed back the rest of her wine. George refilled her glass from the bottle on the table.
"What the hell kind of game are you playing, Fontaine?" cried Condor, waving his letter in the air. "This is ridiculous."
"Remember the rules, Jack. Follow the instructions, and don't share them with anyone," George replied in a patient tone.
Condor started to protest more, but Gram put a hand on his arm, saying soothingly, "Oh, I had so hoped you'd enjoy this little game of mine. I'm sure if we all play our parts, there'll be plenty of time for that tour after dinner. As I said on the phone, I'm always open to new ideas. I'd love to hear more of your thoughts on developing Rockgrove."
Greed won over annoyance. "Fine," Condor said. "I'll play my part. Never say Jack Condor's not a good sport." He laid the envelope and letter on the table.
"Wonderful," said George regally. He stood at the head of the table. "If you've all finished reading your instructions, I'd like to take a moment to explain the mystery that occurred." In a deceptively casual manner, he stepped away from the table and warmed his hands at the fireplace.
All eyes were focused on him as he turned around and began. "Last Thursday a man, Reginald Giordano, a.k.a. Reggie the Fence, was found shot in the head at Marlton House. The medical examiner puts the time of death between six and midnight the evening before. The murder weapon has not been recovered, but forensics tells us it's a Sig Sauer 9mm. With your assistance, I believe we can identify the murderer tonight."
Smitty screamed "murder" at the top of his lungs, and we jumped in unison.
As soon as Smitty quieted down, the room erupted in conversation. Frank Wolfe started yelling about this being an open investigation. Jack Condor said he had better things to do with his time and started to get
up.
"This is too cool, man," Tucker said above the din, and Big Ron nodded.
Alice took another swig from her wineglass.
Mr. VanSant sat silently to my left.
"Oh my," said Gram, "what was someone named Reggie the Fence doing in Danger Cove?"
"We've gathered you here tonight to go through the facts of the case," George continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.
Frank objected loudly. "I'm not discussing an open case. I'll be thrown out of office."
George turned to him. "If you read your instructions, then you would know you will not be asked to comment on the case. You are here to listen. And of course, this is all just a game. Right, Mr. Wolfe?"
I watched as understanding dawned on Frank's face. He might have a shot at solving the case tonight. It was a long shot, but what did he have to lose? The other guests—with the exception of Condor, who was still blustering about "getting out of this nuthouse," and Mr. VanSant, who had cast several worried glances in my direction—seemed to accept the idea that we were going to try to solve a real murder mystery tonight.
The storm picked up outside, and rain began pelting the windows. The chandelier dimmed and flared brightly again. "I'd like to start by using a chronological approach to the events that occurred from the time the murder victim came to town."
Smitty squawked but didn't scream.
"What's with that stupid bird, Fontaine?" Condor snarled. "Do you have to have him in the dining room with us?"
Gram turned on him. "Mr. Condor, Smitty is a member of this family and has as much right to be in the room as anyone."
I could tell Condor was seething, but thoughts of getting his greedy clutches on Rockgrove calmed him enough to grind out, "Yes, ma'am."
One of Dolly's granddaughters entered with a tureen and began ladling soup into everyone's bowls. "Mrs. Charles, would you like to provide a summary?" George asked.
I was caught off guard with my spoon to my mouth. "Sure," I stammered. "We know for a fact that Reggie was staying at Marlton House and using the Realtor lockbox to get in and out. Which means, of course"—I turned to glare at Condor"—he had the help of a Realtor."
Condor flushed but didn't respond.
I continued. "We also know that he was at Tucker's store the day before he was murdered. Maybe Tucker could tell us about his encounter."
"Super-groovy. I'm going to go like totally Perry Mason on this case," he said, his eyes wide with delight.
While Tucker launched into a rambling tale about the victim's search for the perfect box, I sent a prewritten text message. It was just about time to bring in my mystery guest.
When Tucker reached the end of his story, he said suddenly, "Did that soup have tomatoes in it? 'Cause I'm like totally allergic to tomatoes." He coughed and started wheezing. He pressed a hand to his throat. A bit dramatically.
"Tucker, it was tomato soup," I said.
"Bummer, man. I gotta get my EpiPen. It's in the truck." He gasped for air a couple more times and grabbed his neck. He stumbled over his chair as he stood up. "Gotta hurry, or it's the big junkyard in the sky for me."
"Oh my," Gram said with real concern. "Should we call 9-1-1?"
Tucker seemed to recover quickly. "No, no," he said with a gasp. "Just need to get my pen."
Big Ron stood. "I'll take him out to his truck and keep an eye on him." He led Tucker, still gasping, out of the room.
That was a little weird. I glanced up at George. He gave me a wink. All part of the plan. I leaned over and palmed Big Ron's letter. It read: Help Tucker with the diversion. Stay behind the scenes until I signal you.
I was tired of being in the dark. It was time for a little drama of my own.
Dolly brought in the main course of Beef Bourguignon. The room filled with the divine smell of beef roasted with garlic and onions sautéed in Burgundy wine. Once we were all served, George continued, "So we know that Reggie had been searching for a specific-sized box and that he was a stolen-goods fence. So what was Reggie going to put in the box?" George paused dramatically and looked around the table.
"The marbles you lost, Fontaine," Condor interjected with a sneer. Alice cackled drunkenly.
"Close, Mr. Condor," George said good-naturedly. "We can deduce that Reggie was looking for a box for the diamonds he was going to fence." A murmur went around the table at the mention of diamonds. "A box that would ultimately fit inside a loose tile of the fireplace in the Marlton House library where Reggie hid it before he was murdered. We also know from Tucker's story that our amnesia victim, Luke, was in Tucker's store the same day asking questions about Reggie. So it's safe to say Luke knew Reggie and knew he had the diamonds."
Frank paused mid-bite and pointed his fork at George. "I've already reviewed the case against him. The guy has an alibi. You're not even close if you think he's your man. Some detective, huh?" he snorted and elbowed Condor.
Condor gave me a nasty grin.
I put my fork down. "Laugh it up, Condor. But we know you're Luke's alibi, and interestingly enough, he's your alibi. You also let him stay in one of your rentals. And despite all of this, you never said a word about his identity when he had amnesia. The police plastered his story all over the local news asking for help from the public to identify him, and you did nothing. Why get involved at that point, right? The guy had amnesia, and maybe you could work an angle somehow. Instead, you called in a favor from Frank to make sure your alibis didn't get investigated too thoroughly. Perhaps it's time to hand this case off to a more impartial prosecutor." I stared pointedly at Frank, who continued to eat without a word.
Condor stopped laughing and snarled, "You watch the accusations, missy. I'll sue you for defamation. I had dozens of witnesses who saw me throughout that night at the conference. And don't think I've forgotten about those gol-darned bats, either!"
"Oh, don't get your feathers all ruffled," I said. "We know you didn't kill anyone."
"Why, thank you for your vote of confidence," Condor responded sarcastically and took more beef as Dolly made a second pass around the room.
When she'd left, George said, "No, Jack, you just aided and abetted the murderer."
Jack started to sputter. His face turned a nasty shade of red. "I did no such thing." He pointed a fat finger at me. "She's the one facing charges in this case."
I looked over at Mr. VanSant, who had been eating quietly until now. He wiped his mouth and said, "I doubt the charges against Ms. Jordan will hold up once the other parties responsible for covering up details in the case are charged."
Jack Condor leaned around Frank, saying angrily, "Are you talking about me? I don't have anything to do with this case. Tread carefully, Mr. VanSant. Wouldn't want you to screw up that perfect record."
Mr. VanSant smiled sharply. "Oh, I have no worry about that, Mr. Condor. On Monday, I'll be asking the judge to appoint a new prosecutor, given your close relationship with Mr. Wolfe."
Frank spoke up. "We are barely acquaintances. We know each other through the Rotary Club. It's preposterous for you to intimate anything more."
"What's preposterous, Mr. Wolfe," said Mr. VanSant, turning in his chair, "is you thinking no one would look into how your last campaign was funded."
Frank turned red but stood his ground. "It was funded like everyone else's campaigns. Through the donations of individual supporters."
George spoke up from the end of the table. "Except those individual supporters all lead back to Jack Condor. In fact, seventy-five percent of your funding came through Condor."
Frank looked nervous, but he kept up the front. "Ridiculous."
"Actually," Mr. VanSant said, removing a document from his breast pocket, "it was seventy-eight percent." He handed Frank and Jack each a copy. "All part of public record," he added.
The table was silent.
Alice was the first to speak. "Well, they showed you two. Always thinking you're better than the rest of us." She drank some more wine. Her lipstick was smeared, and
her heavy makeup had been splattered by the rain, making her face look like an old speckled egg.
Gram cut the tension by saying, "I can't imagine what's taking Big Ron and Tucker so long. I'll go check and make sure everything is okay." I wondered if her instructions were to leave the room after dinner.
"And then there were six," Alice said in a drunken voice. A large clap of thunder was followed by the lights flickering then going out. There were a few gasps of surprise, and then everyone sat waiting for a few seconds, the crackling fire and the candles on the table casting the only light in the room. The wind howled, and Smitty began a piercing imitation of it.
George stood, lit the oil lanterns on the mantel of the fireplace, and put one at each end of the table. Dolly came in to clear the table and let us know power was out all over the cove.
"Now where were we?" George said, getting back into character. "Oh yes, we were pointing out that the inappropriate relationship between Mr. Wolfe and Mr. Condor could've influenced the investigation of this murder case."
I giggled at the implication of an "inappropriate relationship."
Frank glared at me.
"Isn't the bigger question who murdered Reggie the Fence?" I asked.
"Follow the diamonds," said a voice from the corner of the room. There was a collective gasp as Luke stepped into the light of the oil lanterns. I'd made sure to unlock the family room door so he could make his entrance at just the right moment.
"Bad boy! Bad boy!" Smitty shrieked and fluttered around his cage.
George gave me a keen look from the head of the table. I nodded my head slightly and grinned. "Well played, Mrs. Charles," he said, rising and ushering Luke to the seat on Alice's left, where the blank place card still lay.
Secret of the Painted Lady Page 20