“…and he’s handsome, too,” says a sparkly voiced, brown-haired beauty with a petite, tight body.
“He’s kinda old,” a tall, leggy blonde responds.
“He’s kinda rich,” the beauty answers back.
Juliana and I look at each other, stifle grins, and quickly focus on the food.
“How come he’s not married?” the third girlfriend asks the other two. “You know what they say, that the good ones are always married. Must be something weird about him that he’s not.”
I close my eyes and shake my head slightly.
“Shhh!” one of them hushes her friends. “Just tell the whole world.” She glances at Juliana and me.
“Jamie Gordon was married,” the blonde says, her voice more of a stage whisper this time. I do my best to focus on the array of finger foods. Endive spears filled with an avocado mousse topped with smoked trout, figs wrapped in prosciutto and stuffed with blue cheese and pecans, plump red radishes with butter and flavored salts. It’s too much to take in, and I find myself listening to the women’s chatter again.
“What happened? Messy divorce?” one friend asks, her tone broadcasting that she’s ready for juicy gossip. I study a platter of tiny blinis with crème fraîche topped with caviar. I reach for a silver pasty server to scoop up a couple of the blinis.
“Noooo,” the tall, leggy one answers, and then drops her voice again, as if it’s just between the three of them. “His wife and kids are dead. Didn’t you hear?”
Even though I already know Jamie is a widower, I didn’t know he had children who’d also died. For a split second, I freeze, my arm midway in the air with the pastry server between the platter and my plate. The gossipy women don’t notice, but Juliana does. She whispers, “Are you okay?”
My heart is pounding, but I nod. I deposit the blinis on my plate, but all of a sudden I’ve lost my appetite. Sadness washes over me at the thought of Jamie losing his entire family.
“Dead? I hadn’t heard that,” the brown-haired woman comments. “What happened?”
Now on automatic, I help myself to one of this and one of that, quietly following the women. Juliana looks on with concern.
“Heard it was a car accident a long time ago,” the tall blonde says. “His wife and two children died.”
“How sad,” the other two say, almost in unison.
“But I’m not sure,” the blonde continues. “There have been some other stories floating around. All kind of strange. So you may want to set your sights on some other rich guy.”
“Why?” The brown-haired beauty asks. “Does he have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t know about that, but I heard he loves ‘em and leaves ‘em,” the blonde answers. “Could be just a rumor, you know…”
I leave the table immediately, and Juliana follows me to the bar where we both get a glass of wine. We find a small empty table and sit with our food and drinks.
“Well, you’re getting some of your color back,” Juliana says, still worried about me.
“How do you even begin to pick up the pieces of your life when you’ve lost your entire family?” I stare at my food. “I can’t even imagine.” But my thoughts immediately turn to my Tommy, and I have to blink quickly to force back the tears.
Juliana sees this and places her hand on my arm gently. We sit quietly for a moment.
Finally, I pick up my glass. “Anyway, I just couldn’t listen to any more of that.” I sip my drink.
Juliana delicately pops a small salted radish into her mouth. “Mmmm. These are delicious. Well, there are probably a lot of curiosity-seekers here, people he’s never met before.”
“Who will drink his wine and eat his food and then say gossipy things about him.”
“By the way, where is our host?” Juliana asks.
A waiter takes our empty plates, and I stand up. “Let’s find out.”
We finally spot some friendly faces in the ballroom. Win and George are sipping martinis when Juliana and I join them.
“This was a great idea,” Win says to me. “Thanks for including us in your posse tonight.”
Suddenly, all four of us stop our conversation as we discern a buzz spreading through the crowd. Everyone seems to look up at the same time at the top of the grand stairway.
Chapter Fourteen
There on the landing, with her back to us, stands a tall, curvaceous woman. Her shiny blue-black hair cascades past her broad shoulders in loose waves on her back. She and Jamie Gordon embrace for a long moment.
She turns, and it’s the first time I get a really good look at Katya’s face with its exotic high cheekbones, piercing dark eyes, and lush mouth painted deep red. Her simple black dress skims a well-toned body and leaves one shoulder and arm bare, the other covered in a long black sleeve. She defines the concept of pure elegance.
She looks out at the room with a slight, closed smile playing on her face. I’m surprised when she makes eye contact with me. Is it my imagination, or does her look linger a moment too long? Then her eyes continue sweeping the ballroom, and the effect is one of confidence; this woman knows how to make an entrance.
Jamie walks the raven-haired beauty down the grand stairway. All eyes in the ballroom remain fixed on her. I glance at Win, and he looks stone-faced. My thoughts jump straight to my friend Marilyn, who also couldn’t come this evening.
I look back, but Jamie and Katya are now lost in the crowd. Given the long embrace, just how friendly are things really between the two of them? Does Win wonder the same? He certainly doesn’t look happy.
I quietly slip away from my circle and lose myself in the crush of partiers. I spot Katya through a throng and try to follow her, which takes me upstairs and back to the foyer. I think I see her for a moment at the top of the steps leading to the second floor. Is she that familiar with Jamie’s house that she freely moves wherever she wants?
I pause for a powder room visit. When I come out, I see Win heading up the same stairs. I look around, and when the coast is relatively clear, I dart up the stairs, too. After all, Marilyn wants me to find out what’s going on between these two, and opportunity has presented itself.
I take the last few steps slowly, listening for their voices. It’s totally quiet as I arrive on the second floor. There are open doors to mostly empty rooms that I glance into on both sides of a large hallway. I head toward the far end of the hall, passing a back stairway, where it’s possible Win and Katya could have descended.
I arrive at massive double doors that probably lead to the master suite. Even though I’m tempted to peek inside, I resist. I can’t believe they would engage in a tryst in Jamie’s bedroom, and when I put my ear up to the door, I hear nothing.
I turn around to go back and almost reach the stairway when the sound of the valets returning vehicles to the guests stops me. Could Win and Katya be leaving together? I enter a small room and walk to the window to watch for them as a few of the guests wait for their cars. I lean against one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases to angle my view down the driveway.
“Well, what do we have here?” a deep voice behind me asks a moment later.
Gasping, I turn quickly toward the door. Arms crossed, the man leans casually against the door frame, almost in silhouette. I know immediately that it’s Jamie Gordon.
Feeling a flush come over my face, I’m grateful for the dark that hides my embarrassment. I’ve been caught snooping upstairs in the house of a man I barely know, and there’s no escape. I’m no better than some of the unattractive people I overheard gossiping earlier downstairs.
His confident stance seems so calm, cool, and collected, and I feel anything but that. I look down, sigh, and move to exit as quickly as I can.
Before I can cross the room, he orders in a firm voice, “Stop. Don’t move.” I freeze, startled. “Now step back to exactly where you were.”
“Excuse me?” I ask. “I know I should have—”
“It’s the moonlight from the window on your hair.”
“Just humor me, Ronnie. Stand in the exact same spot by the window. Please.”
“Why?”
“Please.” He chuckles. I walk back and look out the window. Again. “Now turn slowly. Not so fast as before.”
I do as he asks, feeling somewhat awkward, but defiant at the same time.
“There,” he says. “Stop.” He pauses a moment, before he says, “Perfect.”
“Perfect what?” I demand, impatiently.
He strides across the room until he’s so close we almost touch. “The moonlight on your hair. Like gold.” He pushes a wisp out of my face.
I pick up the amusement in his tone. “Don’t be silly—”
“Mrs. Lake, are you always this stubborn?” he asks in a quiet voice, almost a whisper next to my ear.
“Always,” I answer him back, equally quiet.
Even though we don’t touch, I feel the heat coming off his body. He’s so close. Close enough to…
Then I remember the spectacular Katya Alessandro making her entrance at the top of Jamie’s grand stairway, and how he welcomed her with a huge hug and escorted her down the stairs. It’s enough to break the spell, and I push past him to leave the room. “You have a lot of empty rooms in this house, Mr. Gordon.”
He follows me. “And how is it you know that, Mrs. Lake? And by the way, what exactly are you doing upstairs in my house?”
Thinking quickly, I respond, “The powder rooms downstairs were busy, so I came upstairs to find one. That’s how I know you have a lot of empty rooms, Mr. Gordon.”
He laughs heartily. It’s that deep laugh, and I love the sound of it. In the light of the spacious upstairs hall, we unconsciously seem to simultaneously circle each other, simply taking each other in.
“I love design and seeing how people build their nests,” I say with a twinkle in my eye.
“And what conclusions have you drawn from my nest?” He laughs again.
“Well, the public rooms downstairs are more formal than how I like to live, but they’re beautiful,” I answer. “Really, it’s the private rooms that tell you a lot about the owners.”
“And?” he asks.
“And you have a lot of empty rooms upstairs, so I don’t know what to make of you.” I go for a carefree delivery.
“Guess I’ll have to remain a mystery.” Now it is he who has the twinkle in his eye as he walks to the end of the hall and dramatically swings open one of the large double doors to the master bedroom, as if he were a real estate agent showing the house. “Unless you’d like to see my bedroom?”
“Is that what you say to all the ladies when you show them Sheffield Hall?” I smile.
“No,” he responds, smiling too. “Because usually I don’t find them roaming around upstairs at Sheffield Hall.”
I say nothing. He says nothing. It’s a stand-off that feels interminable, although it’s probably only ten seconds long. I turn on my heel. “Time to go back downstairs.” I hope my tone sounds blithe.
His deep steady voice cuts through me. “I never took you for a coward, Mrs. Lake.”
That stops me. That, and when I turn back, the amused expression I find on his face. I respond in what I hope is an equally steady and amused tone.
“Cowardice has nothing to do with it, Mr. Gordon. Thank you for inviting me to your lovely party. Good night.” I smile and make my exit.
Chapter Fifteen
The three attackers move quickly down the mat toward Steven. He freezes for just a nano-moment at the sight of three strong ukes rushing toward him, so his attempts to deflect their assaults are late, half-hearted, and somewhat confused. They finally trap him and overwhelm him.
Isabella Sensei claps. The rest of the Monday noontime Aikido class claps, too, as the four students disband with quick bows, friendly smiles, and a few slight slaps on the back before heading to the side of the mat with fellow students.
“Steven, remember, do not wait for the ukes to run toward you. Be aware of all of your attackers, but choose the one you wish to engage with first and move toward that person. You need to blend and change direction, either sending him past you or away from you. It depends on where the other attackers are located and who you will be dealing with next. You need to have control of all your attackers.” She pauses. “Okay. Ronnie, now it’s your turn.”
She looks at the other students. “I need four ukes this time.”
Will is the first to jump up. He is the largest and strongest of my attackers. I feel my pulse speed up even more as I walk to my end of the mat. I kneel, take in the entire dojo, and inhale several deep breaths to calm myself. I remind myself that randori, the rapid freestyle technique where multiple students attack one classmate simultaneously, is about focus and not muscling or forcing the attackers.
I bow to the floor, look up, and spring to my feet, eager to meet my opponents. First I head for a brunette named Allison, pretending she’s Katya Alessandro in Jamie’s embrace, and slam her into the ground.
I deflect each of my four attackers at least twice, and my focus remains razor-sharp throughout. As I throw Ben, who’s so young and with the energy to match, I realize I’m tired. That’s when Will surprises me, coming in from the side.
I have a sudden spark of déjà vu.
I still see Will, but a figure is now behind him off to the side, tucked back in the woods and difficult to make out. Just as suddenly, whoever it is disappears. The moment passes quickly, but throws me off in the middle of randori, causing me to step back numerous times.
I’m still off-balance and unable to move to the side as Will steps in to grab my gi from the front. I know that in a split second we will collide straight on.
In desperation, I take the heel of my palm and punch upward toward Will’s chin, which causes his head to move back in order to avoid the blow. The momentum throws him to the rear, and he takes a backward roll.
Isabella claps, and the action stops. My four ukes and I find our places on the mat, and we bow to each other.
”Excellent, Ronnie, especially the finish with that reliable punch underneath the chin when you felt yourself losing control of the attack.”
That déjà vu image of that guy behind Will, the reason that I lost control of the attack, feels familiar to me but just out of reach. I struggle to retrieve it from my memory, but I can’t.
I glance toward Will, who gives me a small smile and quick wink. I feel myself blush. The old spark is still there. For a moment, I give in to the attraction and wonder if I should just go for it with him.
To be honest, I feel like a pressure-cooker ready to explode. It’s been several years since I last had sex, what with my divorce and all. But with Jamie Gordon on my mind at the moment, that most definitely wouldn’t be fair to Will. If we were to have sex, I think Will would want more of a relationship, as would I, and I’m not prepared to take it there. He’s too good a friend and mentor to me to risk ruining that with sex.
So, get a grip, I remind myself. And what about Katya? Why do I find her so threatening that I have a fantasy in the middle of Aikido class that has me throwing her around like a rag doll? Something about her nudges at me, and it’s not just that Jamie gave her a huge, long hug at his party.
Chapter Sixteen
Marilyn and I sit on her terrace, each of us with a glass of wine, on one of the last warm evenings before the fall chill permanently sets in. We’re finally getting down to business since she first talked to me about investigating Katya and Win.
“I… I’m worried he’s having an affair with her.” Marilyn says the words as if she can’t quite believe it.
“No way. He’s crazy about you.” I hope I sound convincing, but after watching his behavior toward Katya in front of the book store and at Jamie’s party, I’m not sure. Should I tell Marilyn what I saw, or stay quiet until I know more?
Marilyn bursts into tears. I quickly decide on the latter, take her hand to console her, and give her a moment to let it all out
. Finally, her tears die down and she blows her nose and dabs her eyes.
“Why do you think he’s having an affair?” I ask.
“Ronnie, I’ve never told anyone this…” Marilyn closes her eyes. She seems to be struggling to gather her thoughts, then pushes forward with extreme inflections and hesitations. “Back when we lived in Summit years ago, Win had an affair—”
“Noooo,” I protest. Is this for real? I’ve never seen Marilyn like this, so dramatic. “Who was the other woman?”
“Her name was Sydney Ballantine.” She shudders as if it’s all too painful to remember. “It almost ended our marriage.”
Sydney Ballantine, I repeat to myself. Why does that name ring a bell? I can feel my furrowed brows, my default expression for confusion, and I try to relax.
Marilyn continues. “I don’t want to talk about it, but I will say this: the situation corrected itself, and Win understood he’d better not try it again. We’ve been fine for a long time. Until now, although Win doesn’t know that I suspect him of cheating.”
“Tell me what you know about Katya.”
She takes a deep breath. “She’s a book dealer over in Summit…” Her voice drifts off, and she gazes at the ground, lost in another world.
“I saw her at your dinner the other night, but she didn’t stick around.” I try to use a gentle tone. “It looked like she and Win had a disagreement over something.”
“Good riddance, as far as I’m concerned. Win included her because she’s good for a decent donation to the animal rescue. Not my choice, and I have to admit, only to you, that I had a delicious revenge dream about her last night that included finishing her off.”
Whoa, girl. Let’s take it easy, I think to myself. This is not a side I’ve ever seen in Marilyn, but then it’s clear she’s hurting. Sydney Ballantine, Sydney Ballantine—I know that name. Ronnie, forget Sydney. Stay focused on Katya.
“If Katya went away in real life or went poof and disappeared, I wouldn’t be sad for a second. I detest that woman.” Marilyn’s voice has a bitter edge to it.
Searching for Gatsby: A Ronnie Lake Murder Mystery (An Accidental Lady Detective, A Private Investigator Crime Series Book 3) Page 9