“Later,” I answered Arlo, and then, after carefully moving the deep orange/pink wild salmon onto a large, turquoise-colored, oval platter, I began to decorate the fish. The traditional design suited me, and I lightly painted the fish with tarragon mayonnaise and began covering it with thinly sliced cucumber fish scales.
“Everyone is coming,” Wes said, for the fourteen millionth time.
“What can go wrong?” I asked, humming happily in my busy kitchen. “Honnett will be here. Relax.”
“You don’t have a nerve in your body,” Wes mumbled. “That’s what’s the problem. You aren’t concerned a little that Honnett is going to sit down to dinner with Arlo?”
“Well…” I thought it over. “Nah.”
“Guests are arriving,” Holly said as she sailed into the kitchen. “How are we doing?”
“I’m done,” I said, adding the last cucumber slice to my masterpiece. I pulled off my long white apron, and tossed it on a peg. “It’s showtime.”
I left Wesley muttering and walked with Holly over to the large living room at the other end of the main floor, where our guests were gathering. So far, Arlo was standing near the bar setup, and Beryl and her father, Ralph Duncan, had just arrived and were trying to make small talk with Arlo. As I entered the room, Beryl spun around and smiled.
“Hello, Beryl,” I said, approaching. “I’m so glad you could make it at such short notice.”
“Madeline Bean, this is my father, Ralph Duncan. Daddy, this is the woman who has been helping us.”
Vivian’s good-looking husband held out his hand. His were the type of looks that made excellent news anchors. I shook his hand a moment, and then said, “I’m glad you’ve come. I think Esmeralda has been a little homesick.”
“Daddy’s ready to take her home, aren’t you Daddy?” Beryl flashed a smile at her father, who nodded.
In the past two minutes I’d seen Beryl Duncan smile more often than in all the encounters we’d ever had.
“You seem happy,” I said, feeling her out.
“I am. I heard from the police that they have arrested the man who killed Vivian. Thanks to you, I hear.” She almost beamed at me.
“Is that right?” They were holding Albert Nbutu on charges stemming from his illegal entry to the United States and his possession of stolen property. To my knowledge, they had not yet charged him with murder. But Paul said it was only a matter of hours.
The doorbell rang and the next to arrive was Det. Chuck Honnett. At the same time, Big Jack Gantree and the newlyweds appeared. Sara was stunning in an Armani dress without a back. Her deeply tanned skin was set off by the gown’s pale pink color. Her new husband, a man with whom I’d shared canteloupe on the kitchen floor, stood by looking uncomfortable, although I noticed he’d managed to get out of that wedding tux and into an expensive suit.
Next, Whisper Pettibone joined our group, looking almost jaunty in a pearl-gray ensemble and leaning heavily on a silver-tipped cane. There was that pleasant cacophony of small talk and joking that makes such sweet social music, the sound I instinctively listen for at all my parties. People having a good time. Excellent.
Holly took over at the bar, offering tastings of several of the potent tequilas we had purchased for the evening. And I joined her there, pouring myself a deadly and delicious watermelon margarita made with fresh-squeezed limes and melons.
“Listen here, Madeline,” Big Jack Gantree said in a manner that I imagined passed for gruff charm to those who appreciate it. “We got off on the wrong foot. Big guy like me and a modern young lady like yourself, we just got off to a rough start.”
“Then here’s to a new one,” I toasted. I took a sip of my margarita while Jack downed a shot of straight Paradiso Anejo, which, at $95 a bottle, was one of the most expensive in my collection.
“My granddaughter told me how hard you worked to help her and Brent-boy. We appreciate that. We don’t forget a favor, either.”
Or an insult? I wondered, sipping from my broad-rimmed glass.
“A toast to the happy couple!” Big Jack boomed. The white-haired T.V. mini-legend lifted his glass.
All the others, with the exception of Arlo, had been present at the wedding and were happy to help a bride and groom get a steadier start to their marriage. This tequila bar was going great guns.
“To their life together,” Big Jack said. “May they be healthy, wealthy, and…come to think of it, that’s enough!”
The last of our group arrived just a few minutes past seven-thirty. The doorbell rang once more and in walked Zelli Gentz. Luckily, a business opportunity had kept him in town a few more days. I had a pleasant little buzz going, just enough to smooth out the rough edges of my brain, where the anxiety over having the three men I’d recently kissed all about to dine together would have been itching to freak out.
“Would you all please join me for dinner?” I sang out, leading the way to the dining room where a long French pine table was set for twelve. The African violets looked lovely, set amid a dozen glowing votive candles. As the guests took their places, mindful of the place-cards, I began to relax. I watched Arlo sit just far enough away from Honnett, who was seated just far enough away from Zelli.
Wesley whispered in my ear, “I warn you, if you had made out with even one more man here—say Whisper or Big Jack?—this seating plan could have never handled it.”
I tried to take a swipe at him, but missed. It was time for me to set down my watermelon margarita.
“Everyone…” I looked over the assembled party with their polite, expectant expressions and smiled. “Please enjoy yourselves.”
“If you can…” whispered Holly near my ear as she began serving the guests.
For several minutes there were only the sounds of oohing and ahing. To any cook, this is the sweetest sound there is, so I took a moment to enjoy it.
Whisper adjusted his wire-rims and offered his stiff compliment, “Well, at least you really can cook.” Which I got a kick out of.
As I dragged my brain back to a more alert state, I overheard Brent tell Sara he wished she could cook like this. Well. The man had some taste, after all. The lovely Sara made a joke that someday they’d hire a cook who could do any damn dish he’d like.
Arlo was trying his best to fit in. The only one of all our guests he’d met before was Honnett, and Arlo was clearly annoyed to see him at the table. The triumphant seating chart, however, was my salvation, as it prevented Arlo from using his legendary wit to cut the detective to shreds. Beryl, meanwhile, was acting a trifle too gleeful for a woman whose mother had recently been killed. Yes, she had her issues with regards to her mother. But in public, I wished she’d stop laughing quite so loudly. I shot a look to Holly just in time for her to skip over Beryl’s glass as she refreshed everyone’s watermelon margaritas from a large green glass pitcher. Beryl never even noticed.
Another loud peal of laughter came from Beryl’s end of the table. Honnett was taking note of it. Well, I thought, reconsidering. Perhaps my seating plan had not been perfect, after all. I should never have placed the “grieving” daughter right next to Arlo. He makes such a point to be amusing.
I watched as Whisper spoke across the table to Big Jack Gantree. Jack was smiling, enjoying himself now. I overheard Jack say, “I worked it all out with Madeline. I won’t be paying for that big wedding because you won’t be billing me.”
Whisper looked at me and I nodded.
“I think Vivian owed Jack that much,” I said, and then I turned to look directly at Jack Gantree. “At the very least.”
He sat there, smiling for a moment. Then, his expression changed as he thought over just what I’d said. Then, he shot a look over to Zelli Gentz. Perfect.
The party was going so well, I was almost sorry I was going to spoil it. Imagine that. Me, spoiling my own party. It was an amazing stretch.
I turned to Zelli and asked him, in a voice loud enough to carry, “Do you remember telling me that you were interested in purchas
ing some emeralds?”
“Yes,” he said, with perhaps just a hint of hesitation. I imagined that Zelli Gentz was not used to talking about his business dealings, delicate as they were, at a noisy dinner party. As I had expected, the general hubbub dimmed a level or two, allowing more ears to hear our conversation.
“Did, by any chance, those seven rare stones ever turn up?”
Jack Gantree rested his fork on his plate. Beryl, named for the mineral itself, looked at her father. Brent and Sara stopped giggling together. Honnett studied my face. And even Whisper failed to keep up his end of the conversation with Wes.
“I wonder why you ask that?” Zelli said, quietly.
“I would be happy to tell you. Only first, may I assume that you have been contacted by an individual who offered to sell you those stones for seven hundred thousand dollars?”
Zelli stared at me, as did everyone else at the table. Things had gotten deadly quiet.
“It’s the oddest thing, really,” I continued, “but last night I found these.”
I took the bag from my lap and emptied it onto the starched white tablecloth. Forty-five large dullish-green rocks tumbled out.
“Good God!” Big Jack Gantree’s voice had suddenly gone hoarse.
“What are they?” Beryl asked, her voice shrill.
Brent Bell stood up and said, “Excuse me,” and quickly left the room. Sara turned around, uncertain, but stayed in her seat, fascinated with the pile of rough emeralds in front of her. I looked at Honnett and he gave a nod. I knew no one would be making any unexpected exits from the house.
“My word, Madeline!” Zelli said, licking his lips as if they had suddenly gone dry.
“Do they look familiar?” I asked.
Zelli’s eyes searched mine.
“Beryl,” I said, turning to the daughter. “Did you know where your mother got her seed money to start Vivian Duncan Weddings?”
She shook her head and looked uncertain. She turned to her father, who was staring at the stones.
“I think your father does. Aren’t these the rough emeralds you were searching for, Ralph, the night of Sara and Brent’s wedding?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, in a soft voice.
“When Vivian Duncan came back to California after her years traveling to Rhodesia, she brought home several souvenirs. More than fifty of them, actually. It was by using these raw gems as collateral that she was able to have enough cash to buy a house in Beverly Hills. It was also with this ready supply of cash she went into business. But surely, Ralph, your wife told you about the legendary emeralds she managed to bring back with her to America?”
Jack Gantree spoke up. “Is this true, Gentz? Did Vivian have the stones all along?” He was huffing a little, shocked.
“It appears to be so,” Zelli said, and then turned to me and asked, “May I?” before he reached for one of the large green stones on the table.
“Please do.”
Zelli pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and held it in his eye as he lifted one of the largest stones from the table and examined it.
“I better go see what’s happened to Brent,” Sara said, nervous perhaps to let her new husband out of her sight for too long.
“Wait just another minute,” I suggested.
“Daddy,” Beryl said, “you didn’t go to Vivian’s office that night. You didn’t!”
“You’re the one?” Whisper screeched, offended. “You dared to lift a finger to me? Why I ought to…” He raised his silver-tipped cane over his head.
Honnett helped Whisper settle down while we all looked on.
“Daddy!” Beryl grabbed her father’s hand. “Don’t say another word. Don’t speak. I’m your attorney now, Daddy. You have done nothing wrong.”
I would have loved to have heard Whisper’s reply, but I turned my attention back to the rest of my dinner guests.
Meanwhile, Arlo, who was the only one present who didn’t have a stake in all the dramatic goings on, was mesmerized by the pile of rough stones on the table in front of him. He picked up one that was the size of a small olive and turned it around over the candle. It glinted dully from behind its wash of mineral soot.
“Man, these are amazing. I counted forty-five emeralds. Are they the real deal?” Arlo asked Zelli.
But I answered for him. “Of course they are.” I looked over at Zelli and asked, “Are they as beautiful as you remember?”
His eyes lit up as they met mine. Zelli Gentz knew at that moment that I did truly understand him.
“Hey!” Arlo looked from Zelli back to me. “What’s going on?”
“This is a story that goes back almost twenty-five years, Arlo. Vivian Duncan said she had been forced to give up fifty-two exceptional emeralds, eleven million dollars in raw gems, to corrupt Zimbabwe border guards. She said she barely escaped Zimbabwe with her life. A tragic story. But Zelli always suspected Vivian of running her own scam.
“Then, a few days ago, she had begun to change her tune. The timing was right. She was ready, perhaps, to cash out. She was planning to sell her wedding business. That’s where I came in. Because it had become time to collect her big prize. She was prepared, finally, to admit to Zelli that seven of the rough emeralds might be available. That was, until she wound up dead before they could complete their new deal.”
I turned back to Zelli Gentz. “But it was only a minor setback for you, I think. You always expected to get another call about those gems. Perhaps,” I met his gaze, “you even thought I had them?”
Gentz smiled, his dark mustache emphasizing his beautiful white teeth. Everyone else at the table was silent.
“When we found the stones this morning,” I continued, “seven were missing. I knew they hadn’t been found on Vivian. And I was certain Zelli didn’t have them, yet. I expected whoever might have taken them would call you,” I said, turning back to Zelli, “possibly even today, offering to sell you those seven perfect stones.”
“Let us say for the moment,” Zelli commented, “that is true.”
“And Sara,” I said, turning to the bride, “don’t you think now is the time to tell Detective Honnett just how you got the seven emeralds which you offered to Mr. Gentz?”
Sara looked up at me, startled. “Me? Why, I never…”
“The emeralds, Sara. That’s why you killed Vivian Duncan. At your own wedding.” I shook my head. No party planner enjoys a hostess who sabotages her own affair. All that planning and painstaking hard work and then the bride doesn’t have sense enough to restrain herself from committing murder!
Sara stood up, but then so did Wesley and Honnett.
Big Jack bellowed, “Sara child! What the hell is all this about?”
And Honnett, who had remained remarkably quiet all evening, said, “Let’s just let Madeline finish what she wants to say. Settle down.”
“Somehow,” I continued, “that night at her wedding, Sara must have learned about the emeralds,” I explained. “She probably overheard a private conversation between Mr. Gentz and Vivian. Earlier, they had agreed to just such a meeting. Vivian planned to bring seven wonderfully matched rough emeralds, which Zelli intended to purchase, to the Museum that night. They set a price at near seven hundred thousand dollars. Perhaps Sara had even overheard Zelli suggesting the money was already deposited in a Swiss bank account that could easily be transferred to her name. Simple for a man from Zurich.”
Zelli nodded and I went on. “So much money. Right in front of her. And Sara needed money. She had just married a man who didn’t have any. And from the way Brent had been behaving, he was just about through accepting the tokens and bribes that Big Jack kept at the end of his leash. How could Sara have the lifestyle she needed and the husband she wanted? I think she just took it.” I turned to Sara. “Didn’t you?”
“Me? You are insane!” Sara looked at me through slits of eyes.
“And what made me realize you could have done it, Sara, was the videotape from your wedding reception. I c
hecked the tape taken from the fixed camera that covered the bridal table. Your table. Funny thing. The bride wasn’t there.”
“Yes, I was…”
“Sara,” I interrupted her. “The police have the tape.”
“So I couldn’t eat that horrid food, okay? I was mingling with my guests and…I didn’t kill anyone. That’s just crazy!”
“When we saw you that night,” I said, staring her down. “When you came into the foyer, Sara, when Honnett and I had just discovered the body. You knew it was Vivian, didn’t you?”
“No, I…”
“You knew she was dead.”
“I…”
“Sara,” I continued, “look around. Brent has ditched you. He must realize whom he has married by now. Perhaps he suspected you even then. And today, I had a sneaking suspicion that you asked him to drop off a package at the Four Seasons Hotel, so I checked with the front desk. Don’t you think he’s got to know you were using him to deliver the seven emeralds you took off of Vivian Duncan’s dead body?”
Sara stared at me, biting her lower lip. She was cornered.
“You hated Vivian. You must have suspected she knew Brent very, very well.”
“She was a disgusting, old hag!” Sara shouted.
“So you cornered her outside, while she was having a smoke. You hit her with something hard and found her bag, found the stones.”
Sara stood up, her eyes wide.
“And before you attacked her, did she perhaps tell you who your real father was?”
“Shut up!” Sara yelled, her eyes filled with alarm. “How could you know? Who are you, anyway? Did Vivian tell you? That horrid old witch! Did she tell you all my secrets? How could she? How could she try to destroy me?”
Cool Sara had finally broken down.
“You stupid bitch!” screamed Beryl Duncan, startling us all with a breakdown of her own. “You killed my mother, you stupid little fool!” Beryl stood up, tipping her chair, and lunged for Sara’s thick black curls.
“Ooh. Cat fight,” Arlo observed, grabbing his shot glass of tequila and stepping out of the way.
Killer Wedding Page 21