It was only fifteen minutes later when Sharon leaned forward suddenly, startling Fred, who let out a little yelping growl. "Hello? What's this?" she said. She read:
Student Person of Interest in High School Car Bomb Murder
Stamford police are investigating a possible connection between the car-bomb death of Stamford High School student, Jenna Butler, and a fellow student.
The Stamford Police Department said Thursday that a detective has been assigned to investigate whether Bianca Moretti, also a student at Stamford High, is linked to this year's Homecoming Queen, Butler, who died last Wednesday when a car bomb was detonated in her car while she was behind the wheel in the school's parking lot, killing her and causing significant property damage to nearby parked cars. Moretti was identified by another student as having been in the parking lot next to the victim's car during school hours before the bomb went off.
Bloomington police said there is no known connection between Butler and Moretti, but said they are still investigating the matter. At this time, Moretti remains a person of interest.
"Holy shit!" Sharon said, her eyes wide as she re-read the piece. Searching for a follow-up story, she found it in an edition three days later under the headline, "High School Car Bomb Murder Still Unsolved", which stated that Bianca had been cleared and was no longer being investigated.
Sharon fell back against her seat and lifted her chin up, staring into space. Was this what Chelsea had been holding back the other night? More importantly, had Bianca been cleared because she was innocent? Sharon's head said that of course she was: the police had investigated and found nothing. Her gut said, emphatically, Bianca was not innocent. Her instincts went even further, saying that Bianca was a killer, a cold blooded one. And right now, this very minute, her friends were about to have dinner with Bianca in her home, might even be seated and eating and obliviously at her mercy. Lucie was catering, her book proposal on the line. Sharon's gut screamed: watch out!
Not being able to stand it one more minute, Sharon lifted Fred off her lap and jumped to her feet, Fred's scratchy-voiced complaint barely heard. She had to go there, right now. She still had the directions and address Bianca had sent to all of them. She would go, make some excuse, figure something out. But she had to go because they could all be in danger and, after reading the news story, Sharon knew exactly how serious it could be.
An hour later, after sitting in stop-and-go traffic on the Merritt and then racing down back roads through Greenwich and down to the shore, Sharon pulled up to the security gate barring entry to the elite neighborhood where Bianca and John lived. Had Bianca mentioned a security checkpoint? Sharon couldn't remember, had only hurriedly scribbled down the address and directions before running out the door.
Looking down at her jeans and white cotton button-down shirt, she realized she should have changed into something appropriate, but as soon as she had decided to go to party after all, the feeling of urgency only increased and Sharon had felt she couldn't get there fast enough, speeding like a demon down the road and not caring for once about safety, or even about being a law-abiding citizen.
She rolled down her window as the older white-haired man in a gray uniform with a black tie stepped out of his booth holding a clipboard. Sharon looked up into his kind round face hopefully. "Hi. I'm a guest of the Rossi's? I'm a little late."
"Your name?"
"Sharon Wozniak."
The guard consulted his list for a minute before shaking his head. "Sorry miss, but your name isn't on the list."
"Oh, there must be some mistake? I can call Bianca, I mean, Mrs. Rossi? See if she can speak to you?"
"No, that's fine. I'll call the house and find out," he said with a little nod as he turned away.
A minute or two ticked by as Sharon watched his dark silhouette standing inside the booth. She fidgeted, every hair on her body standing up on end, electric zaps of anxiety shooting through her. She had to hurry faster, she had to-
The guard stepped out of the booth looking resigned. "I'm sorry, they don't answer. I left a message, but I can't let you in unless I hear back from them."
"Could I call? I have their cell number? They could talk to you."
"No, it's against policy. You could have them call me back, though."
"Can you wait a second? I just want to try to get them."
The guard tilted his head at the car waiting behind her. "I'll need to you to turn around. Why don't you come back when you've gotten a hold of them? I need to let these folks through, and there's really no place for you to park."
Sharon glanced back and nodded. "Okay, I'll be right back."
But, after turning around and driving until she found a small park where she could pull over and call, her calls to Bianca's cell went straight to voicemail, as did Lucie's, which made sense as Lucie always had her phone turned off while she was working. Chelsea's and Kate's phones rang but did not pick up. Sharon called Chelsea and Kate again and again, hoping one of them would finally answer, but she couldn't get them. She briefly thought of calling the police before rejecting the idiocy of such a thing. There was nothing to report other than a bad feeling.
Leaning back against her car seat, she looked out across the inlet next to the parking lot, the cobalt water turning gray and murky in the falling twilight, her feeling of dread strong and sucking at her like an undertow as she fought to think clearly, the solution seemingly just out of her reach.
Chardonnay
Lucie rotated her small kitchen torch constantly over the last creme brulee, wisps of smoke rising up as the sugar-coated top of the custard began to turn caramel-colored and the air filled with a rich sweet scent. The hard glass-like glaze formed, she put the ramekin on an edged cookie sheet with the others and returned it to the refrigerator to chill before serving.
Picking over the berries she would sprinkle around each custard and discarding ones that had softened too much, she felt pride fill her heart. The meal was a resounding success, every bowl and plate cleared of every speck of food, little moaning sounds of joy heard as Lucie left the room and they dug into each course.
Well, almost every bowl.
She furrowed her brow again. Why hadn't Bianca eaten her soup? After all that carrying on about loving it, needing it to be on the menu and replacing the vichyssoise that Edie adored? Lucie would be concerned about the soup's flavor if she hadn't tasted it herself that morning, hadn't seen the other empty bowls. It was a mystery - one she hoped she would get the answer to once the party was over.
She glanced over at the envelope containing her book proposal for a French cookbook that fit into today's world of once-weekly grocery shopping trips and limited time or energy for cooking. Every recipe had a full version along with a super-shortcut version that included prepared ingredients that cut prepping and cooking time down to the quick. There would be a whole section on how to select produce so that it would be at its prime when it came time to make a recipe as well as a chart of seasonal vegetables and fruits. In the introduction Lucie wrote not only about today's busy lifestyle and how home cooking had to keep up with the times, but also about her mother's influence regarding the beauty of simplicity and how that translated into easier and more pleasurable meals for everyone. Lucie couldn't wait to hand it to Edie, who had been smiling at Lucie with sparkling eyes all night, clearly excited to see the proposal that Chelsea had told her about.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air, Lucie assembled the plates with the creme brulees and berries and carried the first three out to serve before returning for the rest. Then coffee and tea orders followed by Bianca's call for a bow and the presenting of the proposal.
As Lucie approached the dining room, she was surprised to hear how quiet the room had become. Before, there had been loud chatter and bursts of laughter pouring out of the arched entryway and into the hallway leading to the kitchen. Walking into the room holding the three plates, she saw one of the causes immediately: John, Chelsea, and Aaron - Chel
sea's date - were all missing, their seats left askew and napkins thrown down haphazardly as if they were in a hurry. Where had they gone? They must have all decided to use the bathroom at the same time. The others sat at the table, suddenly subdued.
Bianca, hearing Lucie's approach and clearly wanting to revive the evening's earlier revelry, turned and smiled widely at Lucie. "Ah, here we are! The grand finale! Oh, Lucie, what a wonderful meal. You are amazing."
Lucie smiled and dipped her head, "Oh, I'm so glad you've enjoyed it." She placed the first plate in front of Kate, who was hunched over and didn't look up at her, and then went around to Edie, to place the second in front of her. Edie, who had been speaking in a low voice to her boyfriend, turned and looked up at Lucie, and that was when Lucie knew something was wrong.
Edie, she of delighted merry eyes, rosy cheeks, and a dimpling grin, looked pale and drained. She said, "Lucie. I'm so sorry, but Stuart and I won't be able to stay for dessert. Bianca? We're so sorry, but I think we're both coming down with the flu or something. Anyway, we should probably go."
"Oh!" Bianca exclaimed. "Are you sure?"
Lucie felt dizzy with shock. "But...you haven't had the creme brulee? It's your favorite?"
Edie tried to smile, but her lips only trembled weakly at the corners. "I'm sure it's wonderful. Everything has been. It's just...I'm really not feeling well. But send me the proposal. I'll be happy to champion it," she said, and then her hand flew to mouth. "Oh, my. We really will have to go." She pushed back her chair and started to rise.
"But? I can run and get you the proposal now?" Lucie said, panic racing through her. Edie was sick? And so was her boyfriend, Stuart? At the same moment?
Edie shook her head quickly. "I'm sorry, dear, we can't wait."
Then everyone was on their feet. Stuart made a wincing squinting smile at everyone. "Nice to meet you all. Thank you, Bianca. Say goodbye to John for us."
They both gave a wave and scurried from the room, the sound of rushing feet on the foyer's marble floor coming moments later. Lucie blinked, staring blindly at the arched door where they had just disappeared out of sight and trying to make sense of the abrupt turn of events when she heard the scraping sound of a chair being pushed back.
Turning, Lucie saw Kate, eyes wide, running around the table with both hands over her mouth. Kate glanced at Lucie as she passed, giving a small apologetic squeak, and then she was gone, too. A moment later, apparently finding the foyer bathroom occupied and not wanting to chance the den's bathroom where any of the other guests could have been, there was the light thudding sound of Kate mounting the stairs to find an unoccupied bathroom on the second floor.
Lucie turned back to see the last members of the party standing, Bianca at the head and Grant in the middle. That's when she saw that Grant appeared to be drunk, his eyes unfocused as wobbled on his feet. How much had he had to drink? One glass of wine only? But Bianca had been the one to serve the wine, insisting on pouring in the kitchen and dismissing Lintang for the evening, saying that the night might be a late one and cleaning up could wait until the morning. Perhaps Bianca had kept Grant's glass topped off, but it was empty now.
Grant said, "Oh, no.....Kate." Then he tried to push back his seat all the way and fell a little on it.
Bianca said lightly as she sat back down, "Oh, she's probably fine."
Lucie stared at her. How could Bianca look so calm? When everything was obviously falling apart, her guest of honor having fled, the table almost deserted?
Wooden and confused, Lucie walked over to Bianca and placed the plate she'd been holding in front of her. The custard and its little jewel-like berries were perfect, but what had happened to everything else?
Mojito
Climbing the staircase, Bianca felt arousal pulsing through her in waves, flowing out from its center between her legs. She had gone commando tonight, knowing she didn't want any barriers between her and Grant. Now she felt the air rise up through her skirt and caress her gently, as if preparing her for what was about to come.
How many nights had she spent fantasizing about this moment, her fingers bringing her too quickly to climax as John slumbered beside her? And now it was about to happen. Grant, her fantasy lover since she was skinny little pimple-faced Spaghetti Moretti, would be her real-life lover, held captive by her at last. She let her eyes close a little at the thought.
Grant had stumbled from the dining room like a man on a pitching ship's deck in a storm, chasing after Kate, and then Bianca had sat alone at the table with her creme brulee and eaten it, licking her spoon and chuckling at the memory of Lucie's shell-shocked expression which had only grown more so when Bianca had thanked her and said she could pack up and go home, that the party was evidently over. When Lucie had asked what had happened, Bianca had simply shrugged, not wanting to continue their conversation, only wanting the girl gone; she had served her purpose.
The creamy taste of vanilla still in her mouth, Bianca reached the top step and stopped to listen. There. She could hear Grant's voice; it was coming from the guest bathroom down the hall. Other than Kate and Grant, no one else was within earshot. Tiffany and Sebastian were locked away in the nursery and nanny's quarters located in the east wing of the house and Tiffany was under orders not to venture out into the rest of the house under any circumstances until after midnight. All the remaining members of the party were downstairs and too far away, or too busy puking, to hear anything.
Bianca crossed to the bathroom door, which stood ajar, and found Kate hugging the toilet, Grant sitting on the floor beside her and looking lost.
"Is it....hurting? Or...." Grant said in slow-mo voice, seeming to lose his train of thought. Bianca had to admire his perseverance, his dogged determination to be a good husband no matter the personal cost. It had to have been tough to manage all those stairs and find his wife while the world swirled wildly around him. In a way, that iron-like discipline would make her victory over him all the more sweet. Grant was truly challenging as a conquest, unlike all the other men in her life.
Bianca waited a moment for him to see her, but he was oblivious. Finally, she said, "Grant? I think I have something to help? Why don't you come with me and I'll show you."
Grant looked up, his handsome face slack. "What?"
Bianca wiggled one finger in a come-here gesture. "I'll show you."
"Oh? Okay?" He climbed laboriously to his feet and then looked down at Kate, who was moaning softly. "I'll be right back, sweetheart," he slurred. "Don't worry."
Bianca made sure to keep an eye on him as he followed her clumsily to the master bedroom, sometimes falling into walls before straightening. When they were almost at the bedroom door, Grant stopped and put his hand to his forehead. "I...I don't know...like I'm drunk...but...," he said slowly.
"Come on," Bianca said in a tender caring voice, and taking him by the arm. "It's right here."
"Oh? Yes, okay," Grant said, letting himself be led.
Inside the large room with its sweeping views of the Sound, the vivid blue waters now mirror-like silver at dusk, Bianca pointed to the bed which she'd had Lintang make up with fresh sheets that day. "Why don't you sit down on the bed? I'll be just a minute."
Grant wove a little, trying to look around, and then spotted the bed and made for it. "Good idea," he said. "I'm dizzy." Once seated on the edge of the bed, he slumped, his head down.
Bianca picked up a pack of matches from her vanity table and went around lighting the white pillar candles she had placed around the room. Once all the candles were lit, she went to Grant and touched his shoulder, feeling the electricity course between them and arouse her even more. "Now don't fall asleep," she warned gently. "I'll be right back."
She went into her huge walk-in closet, peeled off her dress and put on the silky red-lace negligee she had purchased just for tonight. She checked her reflection in the three way mirror that stood on one wall of the closet, fluffing her hair. The woman staring back at her was gorgeous, at the height of h
er beauty and power over men. It was delicious.
Bianca smiled at herself, turned and sauntered into the bedroom. Grant had fallen back on the bed, his chin to the ceiling. "Damn!" she muttered, striding across to where he lay. He was supposed to turn and see her in that moment and finally gaze at her with lust. Instead it looked as if he'd passed out.
She sat down next to him. "Grant? Grant!"
He only mumbled, turning his head away.
She stared. No! Not after all her hard work! She climbed on top of him, pressing her body against his and running her tongue up his neck.
Grant groaned a little.
Bianca laughed. Now that was more like it. She cupped his face in her hands and looked into his half-closed eyes. They flew open.
"Wha?" Grant said, jerking a little.
"Grant, I want you. I know you want me. I just heard you want me," Bianca said and kissed him. But his mouth resisted her probing tongue, clamping shut and he made a growling sound. Bianca laughed again and said, "So you're going to play hard to get, huh? My, you love this game. Let's see how long you last when I do this." She reached down between his legs and rubbed his crotch. She was surprised to find no hardness there. Was he impotent?
At that moment, Grant jerked upward, trying to push her away. "Stop it," he slurred.
"You don't want me to stop. Not at all. You just need a little help." She reached down and unbuttoned and then unzipped his khakis, reaching inside to find-
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