It was at that point that I saw a real nightmare walking my way—Tootie Staunton-Miller. She was with her closeted gay husband, Addy, whom I adored, but she had me square in her sights as each of them cut through the crowd toward me—and without Alex by my side.
“Jennifer,” Tootie said in that lilting, condescending voice of hers. “Hellohoware? And I mean that. You of all people huddled in a corner? And why? What must people be thinking?”
Oh, bitch, you so don’t want to mess with me tonight, I can’t tell you. Step away from the land mine, Tootie. Because if this girl goes off, I’m taking you down with me.
“I was just freshening my makeup, Tootie,” I said to her. “And trying to be discreet about it.”
“Oh!” she said. “Quel soulagement. Without Alex anywhere near you, I thought that you might be in crisis.”
“In crisis?” I said. “Why would I be in crisis?”
She started to answer, but instead she just arched her brows and sipped her champagne as if here wasn’t the place to discuss it.
God, I can’t stand her...
“Anyway,” Tootie said. “You look gorge.”
A compliment from my arch nemesis? Say it isn’t so...
“Thank you,” I said. “And so do you, Tootie.”
Tootie, who was fiftyish, but looked fortyish, smiled tightly at me. She had blonde hair that just touched her shoulders, she wore understated jewels at her throat, wrists, and fingers, and she had chosen a lavender gown that I had to admit was sublime. Her form-fitting dress could betray more mature curves, but Tootie Staunton-Miller looked trim and terrific. As always, she also reeked of class and old money. I hadn’t seen her since Alex had warned her to start treating me with respect a few months ago, so I had to wonder how she’d behave this evening.
Not that she was off to a great start.
“Hello, Addy,” I said as I leaned forward to give him a hug. “It’s always good to see you. And it’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”
“The same always is true for me when it comes to you, Jennifer,” he said. “You’re a knockout tonight—but what else is new?” He turned to his wife and said, “Don’t you think so, Tootie?”
“Clearly, the dress is to die for. But I can’t stop staring at that necklace. It’s ‘divoon,’ as Barbara would say. In fact, it’s beyond that. Where ever did you find it, Jennifer? It’s quite... something.”
“Alex bought it for me.”
“Well, of course he did. I’m sure that particular dalliance cost far too much for your allowance to cover.”
“My what?” I said to her.
“The money that Alex gives you. You know, for frivolous things. Shoes. Handbags. Lunches out. That sort of thing.”
“I receive no money from Alex, Tootie. I earn a salary for the work I do at Wenn. Beyond that, I have complete access to our mutual finances. What’s his is mine.”
“What’s his is yours?” she snorted. “Really? With all due respect, Jennifer, that might be taking things a bit too far, don’t you think? I mean, I’m sure you two have a pre-nup. You know, just in case anything should ever go awry between you two. Not to be crass, but certainly you must know that Alex would have been a fool to have married you without one...”
“Then I guess he was a fool, because there isn’t one, Tootie. Alex and I married out of love.”
“Out of what?” she said.
“Love.”
“What an odd reason to marry...”
“Excuse me?”
She placed her free hand to her breast. “It’s just that, in my set, I can’t remember a time when I heard of anyone marrying for such a thing. I mean, for people like us—you know, those who are in the book—marrying for that reason alone has always been unthinkable. Yes, it’s nice when that happens. But where I come from, one marries up or one marries in. I must say—as do so many others, Jennifer, more than you even know—that you succeeded quite nicely at the former.”
Was this bitch for real?
She lifted her glass of champagne to her lips and studied me over the rim while she sipped. “It is remarkable how well you’ve done by marrying, Alex. Don’t you think?”
“Tootie,” Addy warned.
“Well, it’s true,” she said. “I mean, from the hog farms of Maine to the heights of Manhattan. It’s practically unheard of. In fact, it’s an unmitigated Cinderella story. You know what I think, Jennifer? I think you should turn that story into a book. Write a tell-all strategy guide for women in need. Call it, ‘How to Land a Billionaire: No Pre-nup Required’! You’d give your friend, Lisa, a run for her money on the best-seller lists.”
“That’s enough, Tootie,” said Addy.
“Why?” she said innocently. “Have I gone too far again? Have I stepped on too many sensitive toes? I was joking, for goodness sake. Is everyone really that sensitive? Just like Trump, whom I champion, I am so tired of being politically correct all of the time. I can’t stand it. But fine. If I have upset anyone, I didn’t mean to. But that is how it is in our set, Addy. You know it as well as I do. Beyond that, I also thought, that at this point, Jennifer also knew the same and that all of this was just in good fun.”
“At my expense, Tootie?”
“Not at all.”
“Why do I question that?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Well, I suppose that’s the difference between us,” she sighed. “Your people have such thin skin, while mine do not. We have the skins of rhinoceroses. I need to be mindful of that. And I’m sorry if I offended you, Jennifer—it wasn’t my intention. Perhaps it’s just the champagne. I’m already on my third glass, and we’re only thirty minutes into the party. Anyway,” she said. “Change of subject. The necklace Alex bought for you is breathtaking.”
“It is,” I said.
“You know,” she said in a voice that wasn’t as low as she thought it was, “if you weren’t married to Alex, some might think it was costume...”
She did not...
“Did I hear someone say my name?” Alex asked as he cut through the crowd. He joined us with a smile and handed me my martini, which, at that moment, I wanted to either throw in Tootie’s face—or swallow in one gulp. But I didn’t do either. I refused to let her get to me tonight, so I only took a sip.
“You might have,” Tootie said. “I was inquiring about Jennifer’s exquisite necklace. It’s beyond sublime. Whomever did you buy it from?”
“A dead celeb,” Alex said.
I felt a thrill when he said that, not only because it was funny, but also because—with all of this crowd’s pseudo decorum and manners—it was like throwing a bomb at Tootie’s feet, which I knew was intentional on his part.
“A dead what?” Tootie asked.
“A dead celeb.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It belonged to someone who was famous, and who now is resting in peace.”
“Well, heavens,” she said. “Who?”
“Elizabeth Taylor,” he said. “Burton gifted this to her in 1968. She wore it at the Academy Awards in 1970. It came up for auction recently, and I bought it for Jennifer. What do you think?
Oh, how I love you, Alex. You want your provenance, Tootie? Well, you’ve got it. Check, check, and check.
“Naturally, I think it’s remarkable,” she said. “Taylor always did have an eye for jewelry. Or at least her many husbands and suitors did, since they supplied her with much of it.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Addy said.
“Thank you, Addy.”
“As do I,” Tootie said. “I mean, look at you tonight, Jennifer. Your red gown and those red rubies. You practically define sin! In the right magazine, you could be the poster girl for some high-end red-light district.”
She was calling me a whore? Oh, honey, no.
I was about to lay her bare when Alex shot her a withering look. Tootie caught it and lifted her glass to us. “So nice seeing you both,” she said. “I wish we could talk, but Addy and I should
mix. Enjoy the party, and please be prepared for what Addy and I have spared each of you.”
“And what is that?” Alex said in an irritated voice.
“Naturally, questions.”
“Questions about what?”
“Questions about who killed Meredith Rowe. Because of her ex-husband—that cad Stephen Rowe—you two were the last to publicly be attached to her name. Everybody read about the scandal he caused at Wenn—and how you, Jennifer, and that stripper woman of his brought him down. You must know that people are going to hammer you with questions about her death tonight. You must know that right now in this room, there are whisperings of murder that have nothing to do with a mugging...”
She took Addy by the arm and then cocked her head at us before leaving.
“So good luck with that,” she said. “Because I think both of you are in for a tiresome evening of answering questions about poor, dear, dead Meredith, whom I never liked and will not miss. I’ll be thinking of you throughout the night—as will Addy. Won’t you, Addy?”
When he didn’t answer her, I saw the grim look on his face before he took her by the arm, said something in her ear—and led her away from us.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“POOR ADDY,” I SAID to Alex as he and Tootie slipped into the crowd. “Imagine what it must be like to be married to that.”
“I don’t have to,” he said. “But I do wish that he felt that he could be himself and be rid of her.”
“I wonder why he hasn’t?”
“Because of his position in society. People know their marriage is a sham, Jennifer. Everyone knows that Addy is gay. But facades loom large in this group, secrets run deep, and Addy has chosen to keep his non-secret secret for the sake of his family’s name and reputation.”
“In this day and age, that seems ridiculous to me.”
“When it comes to society, it shouldn’t.”
“I’m just happy that I’m a stranger looking in from the outside. Thank God I’ll never be one of them.”
“Tell me about it. They only want us here because of Wenn—and the potential deals they can strike with Wenn. And by the way, I’m perfectly fine with that. That’s a fair deal—it works both ways.”
“Cheers to that,” I said, touching my martini to his.
It was then that an unmistakable voice rang out from somewhere in the crowd.
“Oh, look at who it is! It’s my leetle beety two coupla cookies! The Alex and the Yennifer! You here tonight, and Epifania so happy! She been looking for you two the everywhere!”
I felt my heart skip a happy beat when I heard her voice. I scanned the sea of people milling in front of us until I saw Epifania Zapopa—the official loose cannon of Park Avenue—beaming at me with her bright, happy face as she moved toward us.
“Finally,” I said to Alex. “A light in the dark.”
“Agreed,” he said. “If nothing else, she’s an honest person, she’s become a good friend of ours, and she alone will lift the night.”
When Epifania came upon us, I thought that she looked lovely. Ever since the three of us had worked together to take down Stephen Rowe, Blackwell had taken Epifania under her wing and gone shopping with her countless times over the past several months.
And the results of those efforts showed.
For the first time since we’d met, Epifania wasn’t wearing the revealing sort of gown she generally wore. Tonight, she was in a beautiful Alexander McQueen black evening gown that I recognized at once because I’d tried it on myself. I had my share of curves, especially when it came to my ass, but I didn’t have Epifania’s curves—the gown fit her far better than it had fit me. With her long, thick brown hair curling around her shoulders and her makeup spot-on, she looked like a movie star.
“Give me the kisses!” she said as she approached us. “Both of you. Kiss, kiss, kiss. That the right. Alex, right on this cheek here.” When he kissed her on the cheek, she reared away from him. “Heyzeus Cristo, Alex—your stubble gonna do me in.”
If you only knew, I thought.
“How are you, love?” I asked.
“Oh, look, the cookie, Epifania just the fine. She still looking for a man, and she gotta say that not finding one is starting to wear on her fucking nerves. So, to fight against that, I recently joined this service called the ‘Elite Singles.’”
“You did not.”
“Of course I did. Mama needs some loving—and by that, I mean the real thing. Not the sheet I been dealing with since the Chuckie die.”
“Have you met anyone?”
“A couple of rich dudes—good looking, but boring as hell. I need a man with spice in his heart. A super-hung Latino would do! Please tell me that he out there. All Epifania want is someone fun, sexy, hung, and interesting.”
“I’m never worried when it comes to your love life, Epifania. You’ll find him.”
“From your leeps to God’s ears. Now, come on! Why aren’t we talking about the good sheet? Why we being so good? Let’s let the monkeys fly out of the donkeys!”
That was a new one. “The what?”
“That an old saying back home,” she said. “Never mind. I’m talking about Meredith! Stone cold dead! Found on a sidewalk as if she were put out with the trash! And they calling it a mugging!”
“It’s terrible,” I said.
Epifania lowered her voice and took a step closer to me. “But was it really a mugging, the cookie? What you think?”
“That it was probably a mugging,” Alex interjected.
“You think? Really? Because Epifania think it was Stephen Rowe!”
“Epifania, you need to keep your voice down,” I said. “People are listening.”
“Oh, the boobies, please. They always listen when Epifania speaks, because Epifania always speak the truth! And because of that? These motherfuckers can’t help themselves but to listen! Epifania no fool. She know what she bring to the party. Trouble!”
“Let’s have none of that tonight,” Alex said. “I mean, Meredith did just pass yesterday, Epifania. She didn’t do anything to Jennifer or me—that was all on Stephen, not her. Let’s remember and respect that.”
“Respect?” Epifania said. “I love you to pieces, Alex, but to hell with respecting that whore. She was a rude beech to me. I met her lots of times, you know? And guess what? I hated her every fucking time I saw her. What a snob. She was always so hoity to the toity. So prim and the proper. So full of herself. She always be like this—look at me. Oh, please, just look at me. I’m just so groooooovy.” Epifania rolled her wide brown eyes at us. “Believe me, she had no time for me because she know I come to this country in a rubber boat filled with fifty squabbling relatives always crying about the leetle sheet. You know, like having no food or water. They were fucking pussies. And you know what? Despite the fact that I got Chuckie’s five-hundred million when he die? That beech Meredith still snub me. Can you believe that? That puta was something else! I’m not gonna miss her, that’s for sure. And I’m not gonna pretend that I do.”
Jesus, I thought. Blackwell can dress her up, but Epifania will never have a filter...
Which is kind of why I love her.
“You know, when it comes to her death, I smell something the funky,” she said. “They calling it a mugging? Well, Epifania speet on that. Who the hell mug Meredith Rowe? And why was she on that street alone? Where was her driver? Why didn’t he get involved? Did she even have a driver? Who the hell know? And where was she going at that time of night? I don’t get it. Epifania smell a rat—and its asshole looks like Stephen Rowe’s face!”
“Epifania,” Alex said in a low, warning voice.
“I know, I know. I gotta keep my leeps on the lockdown.”
“Here’s the good thing—we’ll know more as the investigation unfolds,” Alex said. “But as a good friend of yours, I have to ask you to please be careful about what you say in public about Stephen when it comes to any of this. Let it play out. If he knew that you were publicly smearin
g him, he’d sue you. You and I both know that, so why even tempt him when he’s just going to want to take you for your money? Let the police do their work and we’ll see what comes of it.”
“I hear you, the cookie. Epifania just think something is off, that’s all.”
“Think about this as Jennifer and I have,” he said to her. “Do you really think that Stephen would have her murdered only a month after their divorce became official? He’d never take that risk. He’d know that he’d be the first one the police would turn to, which I’m fairly sure has already happened. He might be an asshole, but he isn’t stupid. Think that through—it’s not him.”
“Look, fuck it,” Epifania said. “I’m just glad that beech is walking hand-in-hand with the Grim Reaper right now. Sorry—I know that’s probably crossing the lines. But that still how I feel about her.”
“And that’s your prerogative,” Alex said. “Just know that answers about the circumstances surrounding Meredith’s death will likely come out soon. I hate Rowe to his core, but I don’t believe for a minute that he’s behind any of this. He’s too smart. He wouldn’t do that so soon.”
“Maybe,” Epifania said with hesitation. “I don’t know—he a bastard. But you could be right. I guess we wait and see.”
“Exactly.”
“So, why you two here tonight? Business as always? Or are you two out having fun just being the sexy, hot, smoldering couple of peeps you are?”
“We’re having fun with you,” I said with a giggle. “But we’re also here on business.”
“Of course you are. Who you here to see?”
“Rudman Cross.”
“Rudsy?”
I furrowed my brow at her. “Rudsy?”
“That what I call him—and he love it.”
“You know him?”
“Know him? Hell, I used to fuck him.”
“No, you didn’t,” I said to her.
“Sure I did. We met a year or so ago. Everyone say he a bastard, but he really a pussycat. Well, at least he was to me. We still friends to this day. We still do the flirts. I was hoping to see him tonight.”
“You’re still friends with Rudman Cross?” Alex asked.
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