by Sonia Parin
Doyle lifted his nose in the air and whimpered.
“What’s wrong, Doyle?”
“He’s probably picked up the scent of food,” Faith said.
Abby had fed him before leaving and he only ever whimpered when he sensed something wrong. He squirmed in her arms. “You want me to set you down?” She knew he would behave. Handing her glass over to Faith, she set him down and straightened his little coat. “Be good,” she murmured. Straightening, she resumed watching Marigold Winthrop. She and her husband had stopped to chat with Sebastian.
“You can stop worrying about what you’ll say, Faith. It looks like they’re staying with Sebastian’s group.”
Faith shifted so she could get a better look. “I’ve never seen one of those outside of a wedding.”
“What?”
“Her dress has a train,” Faith huffed. “Space is at a premium here. There are so many guests squashed in, we’re practically elbowing each other and she gets extra space because, of course, no one would dare step on her train.”
Abby took a canapé from a passing waiter. “Here. You know you get grumpy when you’re hungry. And… you can have some of my space. I’ll tuck my arms in.”
The orchestra stopped playing. Abby expected someone would announce dinner had been served. Instead, the conductor tapped his baton. Music filled the ballroom again. Guests began to shuffle back, making a space in the middle of the ballroom.
“Oh, a tango,” Faith exclaimed. “And those look like professional dancers. How exciting.”
The couple put on quite a performance, their synchronized movements and curving patterns holding everyone enthralled.
With an encouraging gesture from one of the dancers, guests began to join in.
When Faith jabbed her in the ribs, Abby asked, “What? Do you want more space?”
“No. I think Markus is about to strut his stuff.” Faith pointed his way.
Abby turned in time to see Markus Faydon stretch his hand out in invitation. His girlfriend, Hannah, smiled brightly. Either they’d been born to dance or had practiced a great deal. They fell in step with each other as if joined at the hip.
Abby exchanged a small smile with Faith. “I’m feeling like a foot tapping wallflower. Isn’t the dancing supposed to come after dinner?” Abby asked.
“Yes, this is only a prelude to what’s to come later on. I just realized. They must have held the performance back until Marigold Winthrop arrived.” Faith looked over her shoulder. “Oh, look at her. She’s fanning her face. I bet you anything she’s complaining about the number of people here. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re asked to give her more space.”
“She is looking a little pale.” Abby noticed Faith’s admiration had shifted but she didn’t say anything. Still looking in Marigold’s direction, Abby took a sip of her drink. As she swallowed, her gaze dropped to Marigold’s train.
Doyle!
He’d been sitting by her feet a moment before. Now he was sniffing Marigold’s train.
“Why is Doyle growling?” Faith asked.
“How can you tell he’s growling over the music?”
“His teeth are showing,” Faith explained.
In the next instant, his growling turned to barking.
Abby pushed her glass into Faith’s hand and rushed to retrieve him. Gathering him into her arms, she smiled an apology and retreated. As she did, she noticed Marigold stopped fanning herself and swayed.
A collective gasp rose around her. Then everyone appeared to hold their breaths.
Marigold clutched her throat, took a stumbling step back and collapsed.
Chapter Five
Abby’s eyes widened. She held on tight to Doyle and continued her retreat until she found Faith.
“What’s happening?” Faith asked.
Abby saw Kelly Pierce weave her way through the crowd. She had her cell phone pressed to her ear.
“I can’t see anything now.” Standing a head taller than Faith, she should have been able to get a glimpse, but all the action appeared to be taking place on the floor.
When Marigold had collapsed, Sebastian had immediately dropped to his knees to assist her. Abby heard him ask people to please give them some space. Inch by inch, the guests moved.
“I told you she’d want more space,” Faith murmured.
“Someone, call an ambulance,” Sebastian bellowed out in a suffer-no-fools firm tone.
Faith scooped in a breath. “Oh, gosh. That sounds serious.”
Doyle squirmed in Abby’s arms and whimpered.
“Do you think Doyle barked because he sensed something?” Faith asked. “Dogs and birds usually know when an earthquake is about to hit. Maybe she had a heart attack and he sensed it.”
Turning slightly, Abby noticed people were being ushered out of the ballroom. Abby commended the organizer for dealing with the situation briskly and without any drama.
“We should move back,” Abby suggested. “This really does look serious.”
While curious, other people appeared to be thinking along the same lines and began moving toward the doors.
As they turned to leave the ballroom, Joyce Breeland caught up with them, her fiancé, Bradford Mills, by her side.
“You guys were closer to Marigold,” Joyce said. “Did you see what happened?”
Faith shook her head. “We know as much as you do.”
“We heard Doyle barking,” Joyce said. “Maybe he picked up on something.”
Doyle sighed and rested his little head on Abby’s arm. Abby had no idea what had come over him. Since the first day she’d found him by the side of the road, he’d been so well-behaved…
“I’m surprised more people haven’t fainted,” Faith muttered. “I’m so hungry, my legs are about to give way. I hope that didn’t sound insensitive. My sympathies go to Marigold Winthrop.”
They reached the large doors leading out to the foyer and were ushered across the way to another large room.
As they were about to enter, Abby heard a commotion coming from the main entrance. “The ambulance has arrived.” Everyone stopped and turned to watch.
“As curious as I am,” Faith said, “I’m more curious about that other room. I hope it’s the dining room.” She hurried off and called out, “I was right and there’s food.”
“Is Faith all right?” Joyce asked.
Abby shrugged. “The build-up to tonight has finally caught up with her. She probably skipped a few meals. I think this has all been too much excitement for her.”
“I feel for Charles,” Joyce murmured. “The night is ruined. Has anyone seen him? I expected him to be at the front door greeting his guests.” Turning to Bradford, she asked, “What are you doing?”
“Taking off the mask.”
That sounded like a good idea to Abby.
“But we’ve been asked to keep them on until midnight,” Joyce said.
Bradford chortled. “Do you think anyone will care if I take it off?”
Joyce lifted the edge of her lip. It seemed to be enough for Bradford to sigh and put the mask back on.
“Happy now?”
“Yes, thank you. We don’t want to be alarmists. I’m sure whatever happened to Marigold will soon be sorted out.”
Smiling, Bradford gave her his arm and they both strode into the dining room.
Abby stayed by the door. As a newspaper reporter, her instincts compelled her to remain vigilant and gather as much information as she could.
She really felt for Charles and his assistant. So much work and planning had gone into providing a wonderful experience. It would be a shame if the night ended badly. She hoped Marigold had suffered nothing more than a bout of dizziness brought on by some sort of faddish diet.
Guests continued to emerge from the ballroom, commenting on Marigold’s misfortune as they made their way to the dining room. The last guests to come out appeared to look paler, as if they had seen far more than they wished they had.
A waiter strode
by. Taking Abby’s empty glass, he offered her another one. She thanked him but decided she’d had enough.
Looking up at the winding staircase, she saw Charles Granger coming down the stairs, his steps hurried. When he reached the entrance to the ballroom, he came to an abrupt stop and stepped back to allow the paramedics to go through.
Marigold Winthrop was being wheeled out on a stretcher, a white sheet covering her all the way to her head.
Chapter Six
Charles Granger stumbled back, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted.
While Abby still had a long way to go before she could call Charles a friend, she had liaised with him enough times to know she liked him. He came across as a likable bon vivant; an easy-going gentleman, a pleasure to be with, and always quick to lend a helping hand. Hence, the evening’s event, organized to benefit the local hospital.
Abby watched his reaction shift from stunned disbelief to determined. Setting his lips into a firm line, he strode into the ballroom. A moment later, he reappeared with his assistant trailing behind. Kelly Pierce gestured with her cell phone and Abby thought she heard her say she’d tried to call him.
Charles raked his fingers through his hair. “Explain what happened.”
Kelly gave a helpless shrug. “I watched her go in and a few moments later, she collapsed.” Her gaze shifted over to Abby. She leaned in and whispered something.
Charles turned. He stared at Abby, his eyes stony.
Moment of truth number two, Abby thought as Charles strode toward her.
“Abby.” He gave her a stiff nod.
“Charles.” She had no idea what to say. Splendid night? Sorry someone had to go and ruin it for you by dropping dead?
He slid his hands inside his pocket and drew in a deep breath. “My assistant tells me you were standing close to Marigold Winthrop when she collapsed. Did you see what happened?”
Before she could answer, Sebastian stepped forward. She hadn’t seen him emerge from the ballroom, but his timing could not have been better.
“Charles.” Sebastian drew him aside.
Abby considered retreating into the dining room, but she had the feeling Sebastian would want to have a word with her.
Edging toward the large double doors, she peered inside the dining room. All the guests were seated and murmuring among themselves. While the last ones to go in had looked slightly shaken, Abby didn’t think they knew about the outcome. Once news spread about Marigold’s death, they would probably react with stunned disbelief.
People didn’t dress up for the night, go out to enjoy themselves and then drop dead. Sure, some did, but it was never in the cards. When it happened, it hit people hard.
When Sebastian finished talking with Charles, he approached her. Abby’s throat tightened. She’d never seen him looking so grim.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
“Me?” Abby held Doyle closer to her chest. “You’re the one who saw it all up close.”
Shaking his head, he hissed out a breath. “Yes, not a pretty sight. I’ve never seen anyone die right in front of my eyes.”
She waited for him to confirm the obvious. Despite arriving within minutes of being called, the paramedics had not been able to save Marigold Winthrop.
“They did all they could. They even had the hospital on the line advising them.” Sebastian brushed his hand across his brow. “They have no idea what happened to her. Although, one of the paramedics suggested she appeared to have suffered some sort of breathing attack. Her husband, Harry Winthrop, is almost catatonic. He hasn’t said a word since it happened.”
Abby remembered Sebastian responding quickly and Harry Winthrop just standing there, eyes not even blinking.
“What will happen now?” Abby asked even though she already knew the answer. She assumed Harry Winthrop hadn’t been able to provide information about a pre-existing condition. Abby knew there would have to be an autopsy to determine the cause of death. She took a deep swallow and, out of the blue, she asked, “Do you think there’s something suspicious about her death?”
“Are we all agreed?” Sebastian asked, his gaze jumping from Abby to Charles and finally to Kelly Pierce.
They all hesitated but after a few seconds, they nodded.
“So, the official line is…” Abby tried to remember but came up empty. Once again, Sebastian had been quick to take over the helm, claiming the night could be salvaged and should be since so much effort had been put into organizing the event and the proceeds were going to such a worthy cause.
“If anyone asks, you simply say once we know more, we’ll let them know.”
In other words, they were not to mention the fact Marigold Winthrop had died. Somehow, it seemed wrong to sweep it all under the rug, but Sebastian had made a valid point. They needed to maintain a steady course and achieve the night’s goal.
Sebastian gave a firm nod. “I’m going to take Harry Winthrop home now. I’ll try to return as soon as possible.”
“Right. Yes. We carry on,” Charles said in his crisp British accent.
Abby picked up Doyle and made her way toward the dining room. When she spotted Faith, she made a beeline for her.
There were two vacant chairs at her table. Abby could see one had a place name card with Sebastian’s name on it while the other one didn’t.
Faith patted the seat next to her and introduced her to the other guests at the table. Three of the women had worked at the Gazette but were now retired. A couple had recently celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary. The others were also elderly and they had all worked at the local hospital in one capacity or another.
“Where have you been?” Faith asked in a hushed whisper. “And what happened to Marigold?”
Moment of truth number three, Abby thought. She’d never kept any secrets from Faith. Now she’d have to lie to her. Or, at least, try to.
“I guess we’ll know more soon enough.”
Faith’s eyebrows curved upward. “Know what?”
Abby set Doyle down on the floor. Moments later, a waiter appeared with two small bowls; one with food and the other with water.
“Here comes your entrée. It’s a vegetable terrine. I found it to be light and refreshing. I’ve already had my starter. Now, I’m ready to sink my teeth into something more substantial.”
As Abby took her first bite, Faith picked up the thread of the conversation, “You were out there a long time. What were you doing?”
Abby took her time chewing. Giving a small nod, she said, “Charles came down. He’d been on a conference call he hadn’t been able to get out of. We had a chat.”
“So, where’s Sebastian?”
“He should be along shortly. He… He had to take a call. That’s to be expected, what with him being Mr. International Businessman.”
Faith looked around. “Just as well he sponsored the table, otherwise, I don’t think anyone else would have invited me.”
Sebastian had paid for the table? Surely that meant he’d made a place available for Abby. At a glance, she saw Faith had a place name card. Why didn’t she have one? Had it been removed? “I thought all the invitations had come from Charles.”
“Yes, they did. But only after he secured sponsorship of the tables. When Sebastian made his donation, he supplied names of people he wished to have at his table.”
Huh? Had Sebastian been the one to leave her out?
“Did you hear the paramedics say anything that might give us an idea about Marigold’s condition?”
Abby was about to scoop another mouthful in when Faith took hold of her hand and gave her a lifted eyebrow look.
Sighing, Abby said, “I heard something about breathing difficulties.”
“Oh, I see. Maybe Marigold is asthmatic,” Faith mused. “Some people have a hard time of it with asthma. I have a school friend who can’t go anywhere without her inhaler. I hope she pulls through all right. We wouldn’t want the night to be marred by an unfortunate incident.”
Abby looked up. “Whose table is Joyce sitting at?”
“Oh, she has her own table. I guess she might have invited me to join her at her table.”
“The coffee business must be more lucrative than I thought,” Abby remarked. “Then again, I do my bit to keep her in business.”
Faith snorted. “She’s quite the entrepreneur. Her little café is nothing but a lifestyle choice. Her real business is roasting coffee and selling it under her own gourmet brand. She’s a major supplier to several hotels and top restaurants in the city.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“And you call yourself a snoopy reporter.”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever referred to myself quite in those terms. Now that I think about it, Joyce Breeland does come across as a multi-dimensional character.”
Faith snorted again. “Now she sounds like someone out of Star Trek.”
Abby smiled. “For all we know, she might be.” Setting her fork down, Abby sat back. What if Marigold hadn’t had a pre-existing condition? What if…
Abby drew in a breath and told herself to get off the subject.
A murmur rose and swept around the dining room. Abby and Faith looked around. Their gazes landed on the door at the same time and they both gasped.
“What’s Detective Joshua Ryan doing here?” Faith asked.
Abby swung back and stuffed her mouth with as much vegetable terrine as she could fit in. If she couldn’t answer, then she wouldn’t have to lie.
“Is he doing a head count?” Faith shifted to the edge of her chair.
The main course had been served. Faith had managed to get in a few bites before looking around again.
“I don’t like the look of this,” Faith said.
No, neither did Abby. However, she remained intent on keeping up appearances, so she kept her focus on eating. “This is really delicious. I’ve never had venison before. It’s… it’s quite robust. The flavors are intense. I can see what people mean by the gamey taste.”
“Aren’t you the least bit concerned? Joshua doesn’t usually make an appearance unless there’s trouble.”