by Julie Hyzy
Food continued to arrive as we waited. We’d set up several decorative screens in the main room and kept both hot and cold storage units behind them.
Two men carrying a large hotbox edged too close to one of the tables, snagging a corner of its linen tablecloth. I was making my way over to straighten it when Frances sidled up. “Look who’s here,” she said under her breath. “Twinkletoes.”
Chapter 6
David Cherk swooped into the room looking more like Count Dracula than anyone should when it wasn’t Halloween. He wore a trim-cut black tux with white silk vest and white bow tie. What sealed the deal, however, was the red silk–lined black cape. Its high collar turned up against Cherk’s veiny neck.
“Good evening,” he said.
When he smiled, I was surprised not to see fangs.
Frances kept her mouth tight, but her shiny cheeks turned as purple as her dress.
“Good evening,” I said, working to keep my own reaction at bay. “You look ready for our big night.”
His face creased into an even creepier smile. “I most certainly am.”
Bennett strolled in behind Cherk, and the two men greeted each other cordially. I could detect absolutely no surprise on Bennett’s face when he encountered our vampire in charge.
I told both men about Joyce’s illness. Bennett expressed genuine regret.
Cherk said, “All that work and she doesn’t get to enjoy the fruit of her efforts.” He make a tsking noise that was more sarcastic than sincere.
A few moments after Cherk and Bennett left us to mingle, Dr. Leland Keay walked in, smiling. And with good reason, it seemed.
“Ooh,” Frances whispered. “What have we here?”
The fifty-something doctor was accompanied by a golden-haired woman who had to be a least ten years younger than me. She had lovely, mild features and held tight to Doc Keay’s arm. They made their way toward us. Unsteady on five-inch, icepick-thin heels, she reminded me of Bambi taking his first steps.
I worried, not because she might topple and hurt herself—this girl was young enough to bounce—but because there was very little left to the imagination with the tiny red bandage dress she wore. One wrong move, one unexpected sneeze, and Marshfield could be cited for promoting public indecency. The stretchy, scarlet garment fit her so snugly that she probably had to baby powder herself to get into it.
Keay introduced us. “This is Serena,” he said, with a protective hand around her waist. “When Joyce informed me that she wasn’t going to make it tonight, I knew her ticket would be going to waste. Serena didn’t mind joining us at the last minute.” He turned to the younger woman. “Did you?”
She blinked sweetly up at Dr. Keay. “I didn’t mind at all.”
I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised by her high, soft voice, but I was. Not only did she look barely legal, she sounded like an eight-year-old.
Serena smiled hard enough to hurt, and I caught a glimpse of what might be her only aesthetic flaw. Her teeth were a mess. Crowded together, sideways and twisted, they were jammed uncomfortably in her tiny mouth. “I’m so excited to be able to attend this benefit,” she said, squeezing the doctor’s arm. “Leland has told me about how a lot of the people from his hospital will be here. I’m super excited to meet all his friends.”
“I’m betting the good doctor is super excited as well,” Frances said.
I shot her a look.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Serena,” I said. “I take it you live in Emberstowne?”
She shook her head, making her shiny hair swing into her face. How old was this girl? “Westville,” she said, practically wrapping herself around the doc’s arm. “It’s so exciting to be in the actual town where Leland works. I’m so excited.”
I wanted to hand this girl a thesaurus. “You may be interested in learning about Emberstowne’s clock, then. I’m sure Dr. Keay will be happy to show you around the fund-raiser and tell you more about it.”
She gave a little giggle before he spirited her away.
“What the heck?” Frances whispered when they were out of earshot. “Where did he find the bimbo?”
“She’s young,” I said. “Cut her some slack.”
With a glance back over her shoulder, Frances grunted. “Old enough and clever enough to snag a rich old codger like Keay.”
I nearly laughed out loud at that. “Codger? Really, Frances. He’s probably all of fifty-five.”
“Coot, then,” she said, refusing to cede the point. “Curmudgeon.”
“How are things going?” Bennett asked as he rejoined us. Frances and I hadn’t moved from our position at the entrance. As it was the only way in, we’d decided it was our best bet for allowing us to greet guests as they arrived and direct them to food, drink, and entertainment, right from the start.
“So far so good,” I said. “It’s not even twenty minutes after seven and most of our guests are here.” I gestured. Men and women in their festive finery chatted in groups. “Seems as though everyone is having a good time. I admit I didn’t expect the party to take off this quickly. It’s a great sign.”
Bennett’s expression softened. “Joyce is very good at organizing such things. It’s clearly her influence at work. Such a shame that she’s ill.” He smiled at me indulgently. “I’m sorry your young man couldn’t make it, either.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“There must be plenty of eligible bachelors among tonight’s crowd,” he went on. “And you should dance. A beautiful young woman like you would have her choice of partners.”
I knew he was doing his best to be kind and complimentary, but I was eager to halt this particular line of thought. “Thanks, Bennett, but I’m fine on my own. Adam will be back to visit again soon, I’m sure,” I said, ignoring Frances’s pointed smirk.
A friend of Bennett’s pulled him away from our group to join a jovial crowd across the room. The moment he was gone, Frances said, “How much do you want to bet that the Mister is expecting you and Jack to hook up at this event?”
“I don’t plan to ‘hook up’ with anyone. Do you even know what that means?”
“Pheh. Of course I do. Why not give Jack another chance?” she asked. “Tonight’s benefit is for the Promise Clock. Seems like an omen to me.”
“None of that,” I said. “I don’t even want to hear Jack’s—”
The words died on my lips as he walked in. This was the first time I’d seen him in a suit and I needed to suck in a quiet breath to stop myself from exclaiming how handsome he looked. Not only would it have been awkward to stare; it would have been mortifying as well.
Jack wasn’t alone.
“Becke,” I said, making myself smile over the hard pit of disappointment that was doing belly flops in my stomach. “What a lovely outfit.”
The woman cleaned up well, I had to give her that. Her dark-rooted white-blond hair had begun to grow out from its spiky punk style and she’d shellacked it smartly into finger waves. Coupled with her drop-waist sleeveless dress, she looked as though she’d stepped out of a 1920s fashion magazine. I hated to admit it, but she looked darling.
One thing about Becke hadn’t changed, though. Her eyes were hard as ever. “This belonged to Jack’s grandmother,” she said, performing a pirouette. “Fits like it was made for me.”
“Your grandmother’s?” I said to Jack, nearly choking on the words. “How nice that you were able to find it.”
Barely two months ago, Jack had sworn he wasn’t interested in Becke. Swore that he was allowing the woman and her two young children to live in his dad’s vacant home only because he wanted to be a good guy. He wanted to help them out until Becke got back on her feet.
Seems as though she’d done so. Quickly, too.
To be fair, I’d told Jack that I wouldn’t wait, not again. He’d taken me at my word, and why shou
ldn’t he? These days I was seeing Adam, so there was no reason why Jack shouldn’t be out there dating as well. Still, his being here with Becke, after his earnest assertions that there was nothing between them, caused me a sharp pain I could never have anticipated.
Frances stepped in, dragging Becke by the arm. “Over there is the bar. We have waiters and waitresses offering appetizers, but if you want to help yourself”—she tugged her to turn—“there’s a buffet on that side of the room. Beyond, in the back to your right is the entertainment. You may want to stake out your seat early. Good spots will go fast.”
Becke pushed Frances’s hand away. “Thanks, but Jack and I are happy to go exploring together.” She started to reach for his arm—what was with women hanging onto men lately?—but Jack turned, effectively slipping out of her grasp.
He took a step closer to me. “I’m looking forward to meeting your beau,” he said, giving the partygoers a cursory glance as though hoping to pick Adam out of the crowd. “Is he here yet?”
Frances made a noise I couldn’t decipher.
“Adam’s not coming,” I said. About to lapse into an explanation as to why, I bit my tongue and kept silent.
“Oh?” Jack said. “Anything wrong?”
Frances answered with a dramatic shrug. “Things happen.”
Becke urged Jack to get a drink as another couple entered, requiring me to get back to my hostess duties. But Jack wasn’t ready to leave yet. “I’m interested in all the work that’s being done on your house, Grace,” he said. “You and I will have to talk later.”
Becke’s expression darkened. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be too busy to chat, Jack. You’re in for a very special night tonight. I guarantee it.”
As if her words weren’t blatant enough, she reached up to finger his hair.
“Becke,” he said sharply as he stepped away, his J-shaped scar whitening ever so briefly. He turned to me with an apologetic look on his face.
I pretended not to notice as I spun around to greet the new arrivals.
* * *
An hour later, I was talking with a group of financial advisers who regularly golfed with one of Emberstowne’s gastroenterologists. The four women had been regaling me with tales of their shenanigans on the links. I’d found them to be charming and fun, but when they started sharing stories about their caddies, cars, and vacations, I began to realize how much I didn’t belong in their circle.
I excused myself when I saw Frances wandering about with a puzzled, determined look on her face.
“What’s up?” I asked her.
“Dr. Keay is supposed to get the program started with the opening speech.” She tapped the watch hanging around her neck. “He’s due to be onstage in five minutes.”
I knew that. “What’s the problem?”
“I can’t find him. David Cherk can’t find him.”
“Maybe he’s off in a quiet corner with Serena,” I said, but even as I spoke the words, I knew there was nowhere private down here. Not tonight. And I could vouch for the fact that Dr. Keay hadn’t left. Even though I’d mingled, I’d stayed close enough to the entrance to greet any stragglers who came late. I knew with certainty that no one had left the space since the party began.
“Serena is sitting in a chair in the auditorium”—Frances gestured toward the entertainment quarters—“all by herself.”
“Has anyone checked the men’s room?” I asked.
Frances gave a brief nod. “I had the Mister take a look.”
“You asked Bennett to search the men’s room?”
She blew off my reaction. “He didn’t mind.”
“The only other place I can think of—”
“Is the food storage area, behind the screens,” she finished for me. “Already checked.”
As I started for the auditorium, David Cherk joined us. “Where is he?” the agitated Dracula asked. “I’ve looked all over.”
“Did you check behind the stage?” I answered his question with one of my own. “Do you think he went back there to collect his thoughts before taking the spotlight?”
Cherk’s skeletal face appeared even more gaunt than usual. “Of course I checked.” His dark, wiry brows arched in emphasis. “That was the first place I looked. In fact, I thought for sure that’s where he’d be because I was certain I’d heard the sound of scuffling back there earlier.” Slicing the air with both hands, he said, “Nobody.”
“Why haven’t you taken that off?” I asked, pointing to the cape, which caught the breeze behind him as the three of us hurried toward the stage. “Aren’t you uncomfortably warm?”
“I am exceptionally relaxed in my garb,” he said, clearly confused by my question. “We are so seldom called upon to dress up. Today, at least, I’d hoped to impress our audience with my unexpected elegance. Historical presentations can be a bore, which is why I always add my own personal flair.” He tapped the sides of his nose with his fingers. “Assuming I’m able to perform tonight at all. If we can’t find our guest of honor and keynote speaker, then everything will be ruined.”
“I’m sure he’s around,” I said, but doubt was beginning to creep in.
Bennett joined us. “No luck finding him?”
“Not yet,” I said.
We entered the auditorium, where, as Frances predicted, Serena sat, drink clutched in two hands, perched on a chair in the back row, alone. Because the presentation wouldn’t begin until we announced it and invited everyone in here, the place was otherwise empty.
Wide-eyed, and so skinny that her bare, knobby knees and too-tall shoes made her look like a toddler who’d borrowed Mom’s dress-up clothes, she turned as we entered, looking hopeful. I could read expectation on her smooth face, then despondency when she noticed that Leland Keay wasn’t with us.
“What happened?” I asked her. “Where’s Dr. Keay?”
I’d thought her eyes couldn’t get wider. I was wrong. “He left me at the bar and told me he’d be right back. I saw him come in here. He was gone so long that I came to look for him.”
He had to be behind the curtains. There was no other possibility. I glanced up at the low platform, wings, and backdrop. Even though Cherk had claimed no one was back there, I asked her, “Did you check behind the stage?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know if I had permission to go back there.”
Permission? I found myself hoping that the caramel-colored liquid in her glass was a soft drink.
Cherk tapped the bridge of his nose with two fingers again, only this time he used enough force to leave white marks on his skin. “The longer we wait to start the program, the more this crowd will have been drinking. You know they all intend to get their donations’ worth.” He began to pace in small circles. “I don’t care to perform before a drunken throng or to deal with hecklers. It’s not pretty.”
“A drunken thong?” Serena asked, swiveling her head between Cherk and me. “I’ve never heard of one of those.”
“Throng,” I corrected her absentmindedly. “Another word for ‘crowd.’”
Frances seemed to be waiting for me to do something. If she and Bennett maintained that Dr. Keay wasn’t in either the men’s room or the food preparation area, then I knew it to be true. I couldn’t say the same for David Cherk here, or depend on uncertain Serena. Time to check for myself.
Heading for the stage, I said, “I’ll have a look back there, just in case.”
Cherk started to protest, but stopped mid-sentence as Dr. Keay stumbled onto the stage from the wing on my left.
“There you are,” I said, but my words died as he fell onto his hands and knees, slurring curses at whatever had tripped him up. To me it looked as though he’d fallen over his own feet.
Drunkenly, he attempted to stand up again.
By the time he waved a hand in the air, we were at his side. “Dr. Keay,” I said,
as I held his arm, attempting to ease him into a sitting position. His skin was cold and clammy. The sickly sweet smell of liquor poured off of him. “What happened?”
He stared at me, unable to focus. His lips moved, but his words were almost indistinguishable. It sounded as though he said, “Injection.”
“Are you diabetic?” I asked.
He blinked and moved his lips, but nothing intelligible came out.
“Is Dr. Keay a diabetic?” I asked those around me. Getting no response, I ordered Cherk back to the other room. “We’ve got at least a dozen doctors in there,” I told him. “One of them will know what to do. Get them.”
Cherk took off.
Keay tried to speak again, but he couldn’t get the words out. Clutching at his chest, he fell to his side, eyeballs rolling up high into his head. His body went limp and all struggling ceased.
“Dr. Keay,” I said, my voice rising. “Dr. Keay.” I shook him and shouted, “Leland.”
He didn’t move. I brought my face down close to his mouth and nose, my hand on his chest, then my fingers against his neck. I hoped to feel breath, a pulse, something.
I was about to begin chest compressions, when one of the doctors summoned from the other room pulled me away. He took over, beginning CPR and ordering those around him to help loosen Leland’s clothing.
Scrambling to my feet, I looked at Frances. “I think he’s dead.”
Chapter 7
Despite the fact that the room was filled with many medical professionals, all of whom performed heroically, no one was able to save Leland Keay.
Paramedics who had been called to the scene attempted to revive the deceased doctor as well. It was obvious the surgeon was dead, but also apparent that no one wanted to be accused of not trying hard enough to bring him back. Efforts to resuscitate Dr. Keay went on for a long time. Finally, however, we all had to admit it: He was gone.