Coached in the Act

by Victoria Laurie

  “Exactly,” I said, reaching up to touch the soft fabric. “There’s no way I can take it back now that I’ve seen it.”

  Gilley’s smile was a mile wide. “Told you so.”

  “But I’m paying for it,” I said next.

  “You won’t like the price.”

  “Of course I won’t like the price. How much?”

  “Willem told me not to tell you.”

  “For God’s sake, Gilley! Just tell me!”

  “Take it up with Willem, Cat.”

  And with that, Gilley placed the hanger in my hand and began to walk out.

  Quickly, I raised the collar to eye level and looked for any sign of a price tag, and of course there was none, but the small tag at the back of the collar read VIVACE.

  “Gilley!” I yelled, to stop him.

  Gilley looked over his shoulder and said, “How else were we going to get Antonio here? He turned down our RSVP, remember?”

  He’d been the only suspect we’d identified to turn down our invite.

  “You got him to come?”

  “Maybe. I had a long talk with his personal assistant and made sure to tell her that Antonio would do well to attend the party, where his most gorgeous creation was about to be paraded around in front of the wealthiest woman on Long Island and all her close friends. What a shame it would be if he couldn’t attend and bask in the glory of all the envious whispers his gown was about to inspire.”

  I shook my head and gave in to a smile. “You are one sneaky devil.”

  Gilley curtsied, then moseyed out the door.

  I was left standing with the gown in front of the mirror, and I wanted to cry over the fact that Shepherd would miss seeing me in it.

  After hanging the garment on a hook near the mirror, I looked through my shoe collection for a suitable pair of pumps, and when I’d selected those, I moved on to jewels.

  “Pearls,” I said to myself. “But should I wear a choker or opera length?”

  “Opera length,” I heard behind me, and I whirled around to see Shepherd standing there, wearing a grin on his face. “Especially if you’re going to an opera.”

  “Hey there,” I said.

  “Hey, yourself. What’re you picking out, and where do you want to drag me?”

  I took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you. Gilley and I are throwing a party here tomorrow night and—”

  “A party? What party?”

  “It’s Julia Entwistle’s birthday,” I said.

  “Julia Entwistle?” Shepherd said, scratching at his five o’clock shadow. I suddenly realized that he looked exhausted. “Sounds familiar . . .” Shepherd paused to think; then he had it and snapped his fingers. “She’s Willem’s mother, right?”

  “Grandmother.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s right. She’s having a birthday party here?”

  “She is.”

  “I didn’t realize you guys were that close.”

  I cleared my throat. “Well, Willem called with some news.”

  “What news?”

  “He and Chanel eloped, and now they’re in Thailand on their honeymoon.”

  I watched Shepherd’s expression carefully. There was history there, which I knew was best left untouched, but I couldn’t help looking for any signs that what I’d just told him bothered him.

  If it did, he was careful not to show it. “Good for them,” he said. “What does that have to do with Julia?”

  “Willem felt bad that he won’t be home in time for his grandmother’s birthday, and he asked if I might throw a party in her honor.”

  “Oh,” Shepherd said. “And you want me to come.”

  “Yes.” I didn’t elaborate, lest Shepherd ferret out the lie I was about to tell.

  “Okay,” he said agreeably. “Should I bring beer?”

  I blinked once, very slowly. “No,” I said. “Shep, this is a black-tie affair.”

  “Black tie? Oh, come on, Cat, you know I hate those kinds of parties.”

  “Yes, yes, I do,” I said.

  “Do you really need me to attend?” he asked carefully.

  And that was my cue to blow up, and blow up I did. With very little effort, I started a fight where we were both yelling at each other, and it ended with Shepherd leaving in a huff and vowing to skip the party.

  After he’d gone, I knew I should’ve felt relieved, but I didn’t. Instead, I sank to the floor and cried.

  Chapter 14

  “This is quite the turnout,” Gilley said as we stood in the doorway of the patio at Chez Cat, surveying the crowd. All the guests were friends of Julia, save for our suspects, of course.

  “It is,” I said, smiling at the excellent job we’d done putting this little soiree together in only a week.

  The orchestra began to play a foot-tapping tune, and I was happy to see some of the couples taking to the dance floor. Our Dancing with the Stars theme seemed to be going off without a hitch, and it was a nice way for me to corner a few of our suspects and make casual conversation, which was really about sussing out any lingering anger they might still hold for Yelena, and perhaps an alibi—or lack of one—for the night of her murder.

  What we needed were some viable prospects to present to Marcus. Those would be the men he’d subpoena and put on the stand—specifically targeting the question of any extortion attempts made by Yelena.

  If they were caught in a lie, Marcus could subpoena their financial records and trace any unexplained large withdrawals back to similar deposits made to Yelena’s bank account.

  And Marcus had already had some success in obtaining a partial printout of her most recent transactions, and she had made at least three large deposits of fifty thousand dollars or more.

  We suspected that one of those deposits might have come from Aaron, because the timing fit the waning days of their relationship, but there were two others that were questionable. One for the period right before Aaron and Yelena began dating, and the other for immediately after. That last deposit was for two hundred thousand, which we knew was the same amount carried but not delivered by Mark Purdy.

  Since we couldn’t be sure if Yelena was extorting the men she named only in her show or others from her past, it’d be necessary to question all the lovers we could identify.

  “Who are you focused on?” Gilley asked me.

  “I’ll take Vivace, Bosch, and Chipperfield.”

  “Perfect. I’ll take McAllen, Goldberg, and Leahy.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. Then I scanned the crowd. “Is June here?” I asked, speaking of Lover Number Eight’s sister. “I don’t think I see her.”

  “Not yet,” Gilley said. “But I’m hopeful.”

  “What time did Julia say she’d be arriving?”

  Gilley lifted his wrist to note the time. “She should be here in the next twenty minutes. She wanted to be the last to arrive and make her entrance.”

  “And Marcus is bringing her, correct?”

  “He is. He’s going to act as her bodyguard, which means that he’ll be able to overhear any conversations had by Julia and one of our suspects.”

  Julia was our backup plan in case we couldn’t convince any of our suspects to talk, and Marcus would make sure she stayed safe in their presence.

  “Okay then,” I said, feeling both nervous and anxious. “Let’s rock and roll.”

  Gilley offered his fist for a fist bump, and I obliged. I had begun to turn away when he stopped me and said, “By the way, Cat, can I just say that you are a vision in that gown?”

  I smiled and gave him a spontaneous hug. I was still smarting from the fight that Shepherd and I had had, and it hurt that he wasn’t here to appreciate how gorgeous I looked tonight. The gown fit me like a second skin, and the black velvet against my very pale white complexion was a delicious contrast. I couldn’t imagine a more flattering look than the one I had on, and it was nice to hear it said out loud by someone I trusted.

  “Love you,”
I whispered in Gilley’s ear.

  “Back at you,” he said, squeezing me tight before letting me go.

  With a deep breath, I turned to the crowd and selected my target.

  I weaved my way through the cluster, stopped in front of Antonio Vivace, and smiled up at him gamely. “I’ve been dying to talk to you since you arrived,” I said to him.

  He grinned approvingly and said, “You are exactly the woman I would want to wear that gown.”

  I bowed my head and extended my hand. “Catherine Cooper,” I said.

  He took my hand and brought it to his lips. After kissing my knuckles, he said, “Antonio Vivace.”

  Glancing over my shoulder toward the dance floor, I said, “Antonio, may I have this dance?”

  His grin widened. “Of course.”

  We stepped onto the dance floor, and I quickly discovered that he was a fabulous dancer. I was just okay, but with Vivace leading, I felt like a pro.

  I spoke about how much I admired his creations, then segued into a casual mention of Yelena. “I discovered you through a friend of mine,” I said.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. She wore your creations almost exclusively, and she always looked so radiant.” I then sighed sadly.

  Vivace’s smile faded, and his perfectly timed steps faltered for a moment. “You must be speaking of Yelena Galanis.”

  “I am,” I said. “I didn’t know her for very long, but I adored her.”

  The designer’s gaze traveled to a spot above my head, and it was clear he was avoiding meeting my eyes. He said nothing, so I continued.

  “What a terrible tragedy it is that she’s no longer with us,” I said.

  “Mmm,” he said, not quite a confirmation or a necessarily suspicious indicator.

  “You knew her well, though, correct?”

  “I did,” he said.

  “That’s right,” I said. “She dated you briefly, didn’t she?”

  Vivace’s eyes met mine, and the look on his face was piercing. Suspicious. “She told you that?”

  “In a roundabout way,” I said. “Actually, I guessed it based on how many compliments she paid you both as a designer and a person.”

  “Pffft,” he said. “I doubt that.”

  “No, it’s true!” I insisted. “She only spoke highly of you, and it was in a way that made me think she had some romantic feelings and that perhaps they were returned.”

  Vivace offered me the tightest of smiles. “Yelena was the least romantic woman I’ve ever met. She wasn’t who you think she was, Catherine, and if she treated you well, it was only because you hadn’t known her very long.”

  I widened my eyes in surprise, even though I was definitely not surprised. “My goodness,” I said. “What did she do to you, Antonio?”

  The song we’d been dancing to ended, and he abruptly stopped moving me around the dance floor. After letting go of my hand, he offered me a deep bow, then stood straight and said, “It was a pleasure, madame.”

  With that, he walked away.

  “Hmm,” I muttered. That was interesting.

  Moving off the dance floor, I next approached Brad Bosch, who was incredibly handsome and well built. “Hello,” I said gamely. He was standing by himself, so my overture seemed natural.

  “Hi,” he said, looking relieved that someone had approached him. Then he stuck out his hand. “Brad Bosch.”

  “I thought you looked familiar,” I said. “I’m Catherine Cooper.”

  “Our host,” he said.

  I nodded. “Are you here alone?” I asked next.

  He grimaced. “Yeah. I got my invitation on short notice, and the girl I’ve been seeing is in the City this weekend.”

  “Well, it was so nice of you to come.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not every day that you get to meet a legend,” he said. “Which is why I was a little curious how I ended up on the guest list.”

  “Julia’s idea,” I said. “She gave me a list of dear friends and a list of people she’d heard of and wanted to meet, and your name was at the top.”

  He eyed me with renewed interest. “Did she hear about my campaign?”

  “Your campaign?”

  “I’m running for New York’s First District next year.”

  I blinked in surprise. “You are?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “And if I got Julia Entwistle’s endorsement, it could be a game changer.”

  “Definitely,” I said. “That must be why she invited you.”

  Bosch’s smile was radiant. “Can you get me a private audience with her?” he asked next. “I’ve been working on my pitch ever since I got the invite.”

  I returned his smile. “Of course, I can,” I said, deciding there and then to allow Julia to gently interrogate Bosch. He’d probably be willing to tell her anything to gain her endorsement. She could tell him that she heard he’d suffered a recent loss with the death of Yelena Galanis, and see what reaction and information he offered in return.

  Looking over Bosch’s shoulder, I pretended to spot an old friend and said, “Brad, would you excuse me? I see my dear friend Ike Chipperfield is here.”

  Bosch’s reaction startled me. He stiffened, and his expression turned to barely hidden anger. “You know Chipperfield?”

  “I do,” I said. “He used to date a friend of mine. She died recently, and I want to express my condolences.”

  Bosch nodded curtly. “Sure,” he said. “I heard about that too.”

  I wasn’t sure if he meant that he’d heard about Yelena’s death or about the fact that Ike Chipperfield had dated Yelena behind Bosch’s back. His quick switch to a simmering anger was pretty telling, however.

  I pretended not to notice and squeezed his arm. “Thank you. I’ll swing back around to take you to Julia as soon as she gets here.”

  “Great,” he said stiffly.

  With a parting smile, I left his side and moved over to Ike Chipperfield. He was standing with a couple, making small talk, but I noticed as I left Bosch that Chipperfield was glaring in our direction. Clearly, there was no love lost between these two.

  Stopping in front of the threesome, I nodded to the couple and focused on Chipperfield. “So sorry to interrupt,” I said. “But, Mr. Chipperfield, I have to tell you I’m such a huge fan of yours.”

  Chipperfield looked me up and down, and I thought I met his approval, because without even taking his leave of the couple, he offered me his arm and said, “May I have this dance?”

  “Of course!” I said, taking his arm.

  He moved us out to the dance floor, and we began to tango. Chipperfield was also a good dancer, not as smooth as Vivace, but still very good.

  “You’re a wonderful dancer,” I said to him.

  He beamed at me. “You’re not so bad yourself, kid.”

  I smiled in return, even though being called “kid” got under my skin a little.

  “How long have you been a fan of mine?” he asked me.

  “Ever since I moved to the Hamptons,” I said. “You were the first newscaster I watched in my new house, and you made me feel like I could fit in here.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he said.

  “Yeah. You’re so warm, Ike. It’s like you’re our friend rather than some robotic anchorperson.”

  “I practice my delivery to make sure I come across that way.”

  “Well, it’s paying off. When I first offered to throw Julia a birthday party, I mentioned to her that I very much wanted to invite you, because I’d heard such good things about you, from a personal perspective.”

  He cocked his head a little. “From who?”

  “From my friend,” I said. “She just passed away, in fact. She spoke so highly of you, and inviting you here was my little way of honoring her memory.”

  Chipperfield’s grip on my hand tightened. “Yelena Galanis?”

  “Yes,” I said, trying to look surprised. “I know you two knew each other, but I didn’t realize you’d be aware of her death.”

>   “I’m a newscaster,” he said. “I’m aware of everything.”

  “Ah,” I said. “Well, you should know that she adored you.”

  Chipperfield’s mouth twitched a little. He, like Vivace, didn’t believe me, either. “Is that why you invited Bosch?” he asked me.

  I glanced over my shoulder in Bosch’s direction. He was staring at us with daggers in his eyes. “It is,” I said. “But how did you know that they used to date?”

  He didn’t answer me directly, but he did say something telling. “Those two deserved each other.”

  Again, I widened my eyes in mock surprise. “You say that like you didn’t care much for Yelena.”

  He shrugged. “People change,” he said. “She certainly did.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry you had that experience with her. She was nothing but kind to me.”

  “You must not have known her very long.”

  It was striking how similar that sentiment was between he and Vivace. They both clearly held the same disparaging view of Yelena. Either of them could have taken that anger and bitterness to the next level by murdering her.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone waving toward me. Turning to look, I realized that it was Marcus. He stood in the doorway, with Julia out of view.

  “Ike, would you please excuse me? I see that our guest of honor has arrived.”

  “Sure,” he said. But before I could leave him, he squeezed my hand and said, “Could you arrange for a quick audience with me? Julia Entwistle is a legend, and I’ve always wanted to interview her. I’ve reached out before, but I could never get a return phone call. I figure it’ll be harder to turn me down face-to-face.”

  “I’m sure she’d love that,” I said, pulling my hand gently out of his. “I’ll talk to her right away about it.”

  “Great,” he said. “Nice meeting you.”

  “You as well.”

  I took my leave and hurried over to Marcus.

  “Hi!” I said, so relieved to see him.

  “Catherine,” he said dipping his chin in greeting. Looking me up and down, he added, “You look beautiful.”

  I blushed and was quick to return the compliment. “As do you, Counselor.”

  Marcus was wearing a tux with Swarovski crystal buttons that had to be a custom fit, a black silk shirt, no tie, a white diamond-pattern pocket square, and gold-rimmed diamond cuff links. He bowed slightly to let me know he appreciated the compliment, then thumbed over his shoulder. “Julia is in the family room. She’d like it if you’d escort her out here.”