by Abigail Keam
“That’s good because my church is having a Bible trivia game night. You are going to be in my group.”
“What’s in for me?”
“A cheap trophy and my eternal gratitude.”
“How can I resist such a winning combination?”
Eunice grinned. “I know I can win if I have you.”
“Pride goeth before a fall,” I cautioned.
“Actually, it is ‘pride goeth before destruction. And a haughty spirit before a fall.’ ”
“Point taken.”
“But I sure would like to win. Yes, I sure would like to win.”
I thought there may be more to this winning than the desire for a cheap trophy but decided against questioning Eunice further.
Goetz was on his way over.
It was almost time for Lady Elsmere’s party!
37
“I feel stupid in this,” complained Goetz of his costume.
“You can’t back out now. You promised to help,” I reminded. “Here, help me with this zipper.”
Goetz smiled. “Gladly.”
“This new fondness for me is unnerving. Can’t we go back to you hating me?”
“I never hated you.”
“You sure acted like I was a pest.”
“You are a pest.”
“Oh shut up.”
“Quit squirming or this zipper is gonna stay stuck. Ahhhh. There it goes.”
“Thanks.” I turned to face Goetz. “Now, let me inspect you.”
Goetz was in a dark suit, holding a green apple and wearing a bowler hat.
“Are you supposed to be the man in the painting The Son Of Man by the Belgian surrealist Rene Magritte?”
Goetz shook his head. “Thomas Crown Affair with that other hot red-haired babe, Rene Russo.”
“It’s the same painting.”
Goetz raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know it was a real painting. I did it because it was the easiest get-up I could wear. Who are you?”
I twirled around so he could see the dress. I had bought a cheap gold lamé dress and painted geometric eyes and squares on it. “I’m Adele Bloch, painted by Bauer Gustav Klimt.”
“If you say so.”
“I was going to be Dora Maar. She was the . . .”
“Mistress of Picasso. Yeah, I’m not completely stupid.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Why are we dressing up again?”
“I suggested it.”
“Of course.”
“It would keep Jean Louis busy if we were to have a costume party, dressing as a character from a painting. Being as vain as he is, I knew it would keep him occupied, as his costume would have to be the most outlandish. Jean Louis always has to make a statement.”
“I don’t see why we don’t just haul him in for questioning. Hey, Jean Louis, did you hit an old lady on the noggin?”
“If he is really who I think he is, Jean Louis would never break. Never. He’s much too clever.”
“He can’t be that clever if you saw through him.”
I gave a teasing smile. “Maybe I’m more clever than he is?”
“You’re smart-dumb.”
I pulled back. Hadn’t I heard that recently? “What does that mean?”
“It means that there are people who have very high IQs, but do stupid things like involving the police in a harebrained scheme like this.”
“It will work. You’ll see.” Patting his chest, I gave him an inquisitive look. “Have you lost more weight?”
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“How do I look?”
“What are you . . . a teenage girl?”
“My daughter says I look ugly sexy.”
“She does, does she? Well, daughters love their daddies.”
“That does it. Get your coat and let’s go.”
“Don’t get all huffy. You look good. Your daughter’s right.”
Goetz would not be placated. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Twittering, I gathered my coat.
“You can be such an old biddy, Josiah.”
“Now you know how it feels to be played with,” I shot back. It was obvious that I was still angry over how I had been treated in the death of Richard Pidgeon.
“Are you going to forgive me? Ever?”
“Maybe if you killed for me.”
Goetz grabbed, pulling me toward the front door.
“And maybe if you quit handling me like a sack of potatoes.”
“You know, I’m beginning to see why O’nan wanted to shoot you. I want to shoot you myself sometimes.”
“Goetz, shut up.”
“You shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Goetz started to reply and then thought better of it. Constantly upbraiding Josiah was not going to get her in his bed. He was going to have to come up with a better strategy.
Thinking I had won the battle of the wills, I remained quiet on the trip to the Big House. I didn’t understand why Goetz was quiet too. Not then.
But he was busy planning.
38
Jean Louis was a little overwhelmed. What was supposed to be a little friendly cocktail gathering had turned into a full-blown costume ball. He only assented after June had promised that he would make his plane in plenty of time. In fact, all of his treasured paintings had been packed and sent ahead.
Lady Elsmere stood beside him in the reception line greeting the aristocracy of Bluegrass life . . . the horse people, artists and politicians. A movie star sprinkled here and there along with TV people.
Jean Louis glanced at June, hoping that she was getting as tired as he was, but she was smiling and air kissing everyone. She seemed to be having a hell of a time. He just wanted to sit down.
“Hello.”
Jean Louis looked to where the sultry hello had sounded. Before him stood a ravishing creature with dark hair swept up with diamond pins, wearing a black satin dress with jeweled straps. She smelled of lavender.
“Madame X,” he inhaled as he beheld this angel.
The woman smiled. “Ah, you recognized the dress. I had an exact copy made.”
“Madame X. Virginie Gautreau painted by John Singer Sargent in 1884. It caused a scandal due to its sexual nature.”
“How could a portrait of a woman in a black dress standing with a table in front of a drab brown background cause a scandal?” smiled the woman.
“Because it was originally painted like this,” replied Jean Louis, reaching over and slipping the strap off her right shoulder so that it fell on the upper arm. Jean Louis stepped back and gazed at the vision. “Breathtaking. Simply breathtaking. You are truly Madame Gautreau. Madame X.”
“Oh, darling,” gushed Lady Elsmere, aka June Webster, “you made it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I just flew in from London.”
“Asa Reynolds, may I present Jean Louis to you.”
Jean Louis twitched a little upon learning the name, but he recovered quickly. Taking Asa’s hand, he lightly kissed it. “Enchanté. You are the daughter of . . . ”
“That’s right,” interrupted Asa, her dark eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Josiah Reynolds is my mother.”
“I see only a faint resemblance.”
“I take after my father.”
“I see. Perhaps we can share a few moments later on. Your choice of painting interests me.”
Asa beamed a bright smile in his direction. “I would love to talk with you, Jean Louis.”
“Darling, you can talk later,” interrupted Lady Elsmere, “but move along for now. You’re holding up the reception line.”
Asa laughed and glided into the hallway, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter on the way to the ballroom.
Many heads turned and stared. Some clapped when they recognized whom she was impersonating.
Asa nodded, acknowledging their admiration. Along the way, she looked for her mother and D
etective Goetz.
While Mrs. Astor could only accommodate four hundred of New York’s bluebloods in her ballroom, Lady Elsmere’s ballroom wasn’t designed for more than one hundred. It was already becoming a tight squeeze.
Asa found a quiet space in a corner of the candlelit room and scanned for her mother. She saw her on the other side dancing with Detective Goetz . . . and they were dancing very close. Too close, really.
Asa sighed. Maybe something was going on with her mother and Detective Goetz. That would take the sting out of telling her that Jake had remarried his ex-wife. But Asa still hadn’t decided if she was going to tell her mother. Asa knew that Josiah had really loved Jake. Maybe she should just stay mum on the subject.
Asa didn’t get much time to reflect as a man dressed as a rakish cavalier bowed before her.
Asa curtsied and held out one hand. “My lord.”
The man gently took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. “You are Madame X. Who am I?” asked the dashing young man as he twirled Asa.
“You are my Lord and Liege, Charles II painted as a young man by Sir Peter Lely.”
“Perfect. Brains as well as beauty.”
“See that couple over there?”
Charles II looked to where Asa nodded. “Yes?”
“Take me over there. I want to talk with that woman.”
“Your wish is my command,” he quipped as he waltzed Asa in the direction of her mother.
Asa had to admit. This Charles II was a very good dancer.
39
“Do you have to dance so close? This is supposed to be a waltz. You’re doing a foxtrot.”
“For once, will you let me take the lead?” complained Goetz.
Suddenly the waltz ended and the band played All Of Me.
Goetz pulled me closer and put his cheek against mine as he paraded us around the dance floor. “All of me, why not take all of me? Can’t you see that I’m no good without you,” whispered Goetz.
“Take my lips. I want to lose them. Take my arms. I’ll never use them,” I joined in.
Goetz mouthed in my ear, “Your goodbye left me with eyes that cry. How can I go on, dear, without you?”
I finished the song, “You took the part that was once my heart, so why not take all of me?”
I glanced up at Goetz. The intensity of his stare was too much. I looked away. I was not used to men looking at me so intently.
“Look at me, Josiah,” he rumbled.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m afraid that I’ll lose myself. I can’t afford another mistake.” I tried pushing him away but Goetz’s grip was firm. That man was strong.
He rested his cheek against my hair. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”
“You’ll try to change me. Control me.”
“Never.”
I finally pushed out of his grip. “I don’t ever want to love again. It hurts too much.”
“I’m not that son-of-a-bitch Brannon.”
“That’s just it. Brannon was a wonderful man. We had many happy years but his betrayal just about did me in. You might be a wonderful man too, but in the end, you’ll betray me somehow. I just know it.”
Goetz started toward me.
“Don’t. Just don’t,” I cried as I fled the ballroom.
40
“Mommy, what are you doing in here? I followed you from the ballroom.”
“Oh Asa, you made it!” I tilted my cheek for a kiss. “I came in here to hide.”
We were in one of the unused guest rooms. I was sitting on the bed trying to figure out why Goetz frightened me so.
“Did the good Detective upset you? Why does that man always look like an unmade bed?” Asa added as an afterthought.
“I think it’s because he looks like a Shar Pei.” We both smiled at the thought of Goetz looking like a wrinkled dog.
“You didn’t answer my question. Did he upset you?”
“Not really. It’s just at times like this I wish your father were here . . . or Jake. I miss Jake, I guess.”
Asa frowned. “Since you brought him up, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
I held up my hand. “Please don’t. I know he’s not coming back. I don’t need to know anything else. Okay?”
Asa sat on the bed and put her arms around me. “Sure, Mom. It can wait.”
Asa smelled like lavender basking under warm sunshine.
“Is everything ready?”
“Everyone has been put in place,” assured Asa. “All he has to do is go after the bait.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then there is very little that can be done at this point.”
I started to speak but a gong sounded. Asa and I went out into the hallway where there was quite a bit of commotion.
We followed the crowd upstairs and peered over the ornate banister where Jean Louis and Lady Elsmere were enacting Jacques-Louis David’s 1804 masterpiece The Coronation of Napoleon where he was placing a crown upon Josephine’s head as Empress of the French Empire.
Jean Louis was dressed as a Roman wearing a golden olive wreath on his noble brow and white toga while sporting a red velvet robe embroidered with golden honeybees, exactly as Napoleon was attired in the painting.
Below him on the steps knelt Lady Elsmere in an exact replica of the regalia Josephine wore.
Behind her stood two of her oldest friends holding up the train of her enormous red robe.
In real life, the two women holding up Josephine’s train were Napoleon’s sisters who at the moment of kneeling tried to cause Josephine to fall by tugging on the train, thus embarrassing her in front of the European court that had come to witness the coronation.
However, Josephine managed to catch herself and kneeled with grace. You go, girl!
Everyone started clapping and yelling, “Bravo! Bravo!”
Jean Louis helped Lady Elsmere to her feet after which they bowed to the enthusiastic crowd.
Lady Elsmere quieted everyone. “I wish to thank you all for coming to see my new portrait by Jean Louis. Jean Louis, I wish to thank you for breathing new life into me. I am sorry to see my friend leave us tonight but enough said. I hate long goodbyes. Everyone – enjoy yourselves.”
As the crowd dispersed, Goetz made his way up the grand staircase to us.
“Hello Asa. You look very becoming tonight.”
“Thank you, Detective Goetz.”
“Come on, Josiah. This is your ballgame. No time to get cold feet.”
“Are you going to quit trying to corral me?”
“Yeah. I’m going to let you chase me from here on out.”
“As if I ever would.”
Asa tilted her head listening to her mother and the Detective banter, but kept her thoughts to herself. “I’ll get the smarmy Jean Louis myself,” said Asa. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Make sure that painting is gone.”
“Let’s do it,” I pronounced. Leaning over the balcony, I caught Liam’s eye as he was giving last-minute instructions to servants for the midnight buffet.
He nodded and very deftly walked past the John Henry Rouson painting and lifted it off the wall without attracting any undue attention. Like the true thief that Liam was, he walked away with the painting by his side and out of the room.
What was astonishing is that no one seemed to notice.
41
“Now, it is time for me to go into action,” remarked Asa. Starting down the staircase, she looked for Charles II, turning down many offers to dance.
Finally wandering into the ballroom, she saw him dancing with a woman dressed as Ophelia as painted by Sir John Everett Millais. She could see that Charles II was having a hard time competing with Ophelia’s large bouquet of flowers, which kept getting caught under his rather large nose.
Seeing Asa wave to him, Charles II rolled his eyes in dismay and promptly danced Ophelia over to a corner where he dumped her after t
hanking her for a lovely samba.
“I didn’t mean to break up a meaningful relationship,” quipped Asa after Charles II sashayed over to her.
“All Ophelias are bores and definitely in need of Prozac.”
“I need your help.”
Charles II’s eyes lighted up. “Great. Who do I have to kill?”
“See that fat little man over there?”
“You mean the guest of honor, Jean Louis?”
“I want you to flaunt me right under his nose.”
“And then.”
“Turn me over to him when he cuts in.”
“Very sure of your charms, aren’t you?”
“You came when I waggled my finger.”
Charles II smiled. “Touché, but I’m an easy touch. Desperate for female contact.”
“And so is he.”
“Well, let’s do the dirty deed,” crooned Charles II as he whisked Asa around the dance floor to where Jean Louis was talking to admirers.
Immediately Jean Louis saw Asa out of the corner of his eye. “Excuse me please, but I must dance with this rare Kentucky flower before I leave tonight,” he said to his little group before bowing.
Quickly he stepped onto the dance floor and tapped Charles II on the shoulder.
“So sorry to cut in, but Madame X promised me this dance.” He stared at Asa as though daring her to call him a liar.
“He’s so right. I’m sorry, but I did promise Jean Louis this dance,” Asa said.
“Truly my loss,” replied Charles II as he turned Asa over to the diminutive Jean Louis.
“I’m all yours,” cooed Asa.
“If only I had more time,” rhapsodized Jean Louis staring at Asa’s décolletage. “I would love to paint you, maybe as an odalisque.”
“That has been so done. Can’t you think of something more original?”
“But a woman such as yourself needs to be adored, needs to be worshipped.”
“I feel as though I’m being worshipped enough right now. Do you mind removing your hand from my derrière?”
Jean Louis gave Asa a sheepish grin before dipping her.
“Didn’t expect that,” groused Asa as she righted herself. This guy was a regular octopus. “Let’s go out into the hall. It’s so crowded and hot in here.”