Carefully, so as not to step on the hem of her dress, Lauren exited the car, holding the keys out to Charlie. All around them stylish couples were making their way through the massive double glass doors into the brightly lit lobby. Most of the ladies stopped just inside the door at the coat check, shedding their winter weather wraps. Lauren hadn’t worn one. She’d be chilly, but picking up a jacket at the coat check on the way out would have slowed them down. Reese made his way around the back of the car and took Lauren’s arm.
“By the way, you two look ridiculous,” Charlie told them, sliding behind the wheel. Not waiting for a reply, he revved the engine and pulled out into the circle.
“You think we can carry this off?” Reese asked as he beamed his smile at the arriving guests.
Latching her arm more securely around his, she propelled him forward. “Let’s just find the bathrooms before someone spots us. I think I just saw Lieutenant Shaffer and his wife pull up.”
The boning in the bodice of the dress was digging into her still-healing wounds, itching her like crazy. Fighting the urge to start scratching at herself, she and Reese crossed the threshold into the grand lobby, done up in a White Christmas theme, complete with a two-story ivory tree that twinkled with silvery lights. Piped-in holiday music filled the air. An attractive young lady in a blue evening dress checked their tickets against the list on her clipboard. “Guests of Mark Hathaway,” she said warmly, checking them off her list. “Enjoy your evening.”
Reese tucked the tickets into his suit coat pocket, then slipped his arm through Lauren’s again. A passing waiter paused, handing them each a bubbling glass of champagne from his tray. “The reception is in the ballroom to your right,” he informed them before moving on to the next couple.
Standing with a champagne flute directly in front of them, talking to two Asian men and their wives, was Ricky Schultz. Reese spotted him first and whirled Lauren around to face the wall. He huddled close to her, arm around her back, as if they were engrossed in a very private and intimate conversation.
“Smile,” he told her, moving closer, “like we’re on a date and you actually like me.” Reese had her pinned.
“Is he still there?” she asked, trying to get out from under Reese’s shoulder.
“It looks like he’s wrapping it up. He didn’t see us. Just laugh, pretend I’m witty.”
She snuck a look at Ricky. Older than she remembered him, the years had not been kind. His barrel chest had ballooned, spilling over into a massive beer gut. He looked like he was stuffed into a suit two sizes too small. His dark hair, now streaked with gray, was too long, too greasy, and halfway combed over a bald spot. A nasty-looking irregular brown spot the size of a quarter marred his left cheek.
Reese tugged her even closer, trying to turn her face back toward his. “Look at me,” he hissed. “He’ll see your face.”
She pressed her cheek against his. “I should have brought some mints.”
“Ah.” Reese laughed, heaving his shoulders a little for effect. “I should have brought someone who appreciates the rugged scent of a real man.” Lauren tried to make a light tittering laugh, but it came out a kind of strangled choke. Feeling her heart start to race, she tried to control her breathing. The last thing Lauren needed was to have a coughing fit.
She peeked over Reese’s shoulder. “I think he’s gone.”
Reese turned, checked the hall, saw that Ricky had moved on, and released her. “That was close. We almost walked right into him.”
“Let’s just get to the restrooms before we get caught.” Lauren plastered her most serene fake smile across her face.
“Good idea.” Reese had taken her arm again but was now on the alert for any random Schultz brother who might be hanging around.
“Sam has spared no expense.” Lauren took a sip of the sweet champagne, glancing at the faces around her for people she knew.
“I did some research.” Reese guided them to the entrance to the ballroom. “Sam Schultz did pretty well for himself as an attorney. Not as well as your ex-husband, but he made a lot of cash in personal injury law after he left the district attorney’s office as an ADA years ago. Enough to finance a campaign against Carl Church, who’s been considered unbeatable until now.”
Her eyes scanned the hallway. “I see the restrooms. Right across from the main door to the ballroom.”
“I want to stick my head in there real quick and get the lay of the land. Your phone is charged and ready to record, right?”
She patted the invisible pocket she had sewn into her dress so she wouldn’t have to carry the silly little beaded purse. Even when she’d been married to Mark, she’d tried to skirt convention at every turn.
“You go powder your nose. I’ll check it out, and when I hear the speeches, I’ll text you.”
Lauren hated letting him take the lead but nodded her head and walked in the direction of the bathroom. She was the planner of things in their partnership. He was the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants guy. The role reversal disturbed the delicate balance of power they had established long ago. Sometime soon, they had to get things back to normal. Including his moving back into his own house.
Almost bumping into an elegantly dressed, golden-haired lady, Lauren backed up so she could exit. The lady squinted her eyes after the mutual apologies and asked sweetly, “Have we met? You look so familiar.”
Mustering her best bewildered look, Lauren responded, “I don’t think so, but my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
The lady laughed, touching a manicured finger to her temple. “Tell me about it! See you at the party, dear.”
The ladies’ room was bigger than most studio apartments in the city, complete with a sitting area, a makeup and hair station, multiple stalls, and floor-length mirrors to double check yourself before you exited. She couldn’t wait in the designated sitting area; someone might recognize her. Lauren stared at the heavy faux marble doors to the stalls. I’m really going to have to sit in the can, she concluded. Wait until I tell the brass about our glamourous, unapproved, unsanctioned undercover operation in the toilet. If this goes bad, we’ll get fired and be humiliated.
Sucking it up as best she could in her itchy dress, she chose the farthest stall and entered. Thankfully, there were paper seat covers hanging on the wall, and she managed to make a barrier about a half an inch thick before the box ran out. Slipping her cell from the hidden pocket, she perched her butt on the edge of her new paper nest, waiting and listening.
The sounds of flushing, water running, and small talk didn’t drown out the music coming from the ballroom. They’d both be able to hear when the organizer—some democratic big wig named Jason Mays—started the speeches. The men’s room was located directly next door, so hopefully when they emerged, everyone would be in the ballroom paying attention to the speakers and not the people creeping out of the bathrooms.
“Is someone in here?” An impatient knock brought Lauren back to the situation at hand.
“Occupied,” she called out, glad the doors were flush to the stall and there were no gaps like in some restrooms.
“Occupied,” she heard the woman say. “They’re all occupied. Why can’t architects build enough bathrooms for women in the twenty-first century?”
Lauren smiled to herself. Why indeed?
She checked the time on her phone. The speeches should start any second. Jason Mays would talk for a while, but they would wait until Sam Schultz actually took the stage. Then all eyes would be on him.
No messages from Charlie. He must be doing okay or he would have sent a text, or an angry message, or barged into the ladies’ room to find me, she thought, trying to concentrate on the sounds projecting from the ballroom.
Waiting was her weakness. As the minutes ticked by, her anxiety increased. This had to work. If they couldn’t get an abandoned sample, they’d have to make Rita go before a jud
ge to get a court order for Sam Schultz’s DNA. The word of a retired hooker stealing benefits from her dead sister wouldn’t go very far without any corroborating evidence.
Her mouth was dry, Sahara Desert dry, and she wished she’d grabbed another glass of champagne before heading into the stall. Nothing like drinking your problems away on the commode.
Suddenly she was aware that the music had stopped and people were clapping. She looked down at her phone. The program was running a couple minutes late, but it must be Jason Mays on the stage who was thanking everyone and making introductions.
Her phone buzzed. A single line of text appeared across her screen: Meet me in the hallway.
It was game time.
41
Standing in the hallway with his hands folded neatly in front of him, Reese looked every inch the handsome businessman waiting for his trophy wife to exit the bathroom. Except for the vein throbbing ever so slightly in his left temple, no one would ever guess he was under tremendous stress at that moment. Lauren sidled up next to him. “Got everything?”
Pulling so that it only peeked out of his pocket, Reese showed her a plastic evidence bag he had tucked away. “The latex gloves are in my other pocket. I’ll try to slip one on as I approach.”
Lauren had her cell phone in her hand. “I’m going to start recording now, so watch your mouth.”
He gave her his signature grin, but there was a tightness to it. “Let’s do this.”
Stepping through the door, Lauren marveled at how the investors had taken a ramshackle, broken-down, abandoned building and turned it into an exquisite venue. Three enormous crystal chandeliers lit the expansive ballroom, complete with polished marble floors and enough tables to seat hundreds.
Reese broke away from Lauren. She immediately peeled off to the side, well behind the last table, and into the corner.
Almost everyone inside the ballroom was standing, champagne glasses in hand, listening to Jason Mays explain why Sam Schultz should be the next district attorney of Erie County. Sam stood next to him on the stage, hands clasped in front of him exactly like Reese’s had just been, looking handsome in a blue suit with a yellow tie. Sam was built nothing like his brother Vince: he was shorter, slimmer, and he lacked the acne scars that marred Vince’s face or the dangerous-looking spot on Ricky’s. A high-maintenance blonde stood to Sam’s immediate right. His wife, Lauren assumed by the way she was beaming in adoration at Sam. Lauren raised her phone up, mostly to record, but partially to obscure her face. From where she stood, she’d be able to capture everything.
She had a perfect, unobstructed view of Sam as he thanked the host and moved to the lectern to speak.
“When I was approached about running for Erie County District Attorney, my first thought was about my wife and kids. How would this affect them?” Sam Schultz looked over at his wife. “She didn’t hesitate. She looked me right in the eye and said to go for it. Caroline’s always been my biggest supporter. She’s a supermom who takes care of our three kids all day, and then me when I come home at night. Can I get a round of applause for my wife, Caroline?”
Poor thing, Lauren thought with a hint of real pity, as she repositioned her cell slightly as Sam moved, along with countless others in the room, recording the event. She has no idea what’s about to happen to her family.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Reese slowly making his way toward the front, via the far-right wall. No one noticed or cared; all eyes and cameras were glued to the candidate.
“Also, I’d be a bad brother if I didn’t thank two very special men,” Sam said, after acknowledging Jason Mays and thanking him and the Erie County Independent Party for hosting the event. Rumor had it Sam was trying to get both the Republican and the Democratic nods as well, effectively stealing the election from Church before the first ballot was even cast. “Vince and Ricky.” He turned to his right where his brothers were standing in the front row, raising his glass in their direction.
“I took the Buffalo Police Department’s exam all those years ago because I wanted to be like my big brothers. But it was my big brothers who convinced me I should leave the force to go to law school. It was the toughest decision I ever had to make, but they both told me that I needed to follow my heart. And I did. Not everyone can be a hero, but some of us can support our heroes. Vince and Rick, you are my heroes.”
You killed a teenager, they covered it for you, and then one of them tried to kill me to keep the scam going. Lauren gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned white. Great guys, all three of you.
Sam raised his champagne flute, waited for everyone else to do the same, amid yells of, “Hear! Hear!” He held his wife’s gaze, gave her a playful wink, then took a long sip.
Bingo. Lauren watched the scene unfold on her phone screen. Now Reese just had to snag that glass.
Sam Schultz concluded his speech, shook hands with some random people on the stage, and exited onto the floor with his lovely wife in tow to mingle with the crowd. Lauren stepped back even farther into the corner, lowering her phone, but keeping it trained on the empty champagne flute Sam had left on a small table next to the lectern.
Waiters and waitresses wove in and out among the guests with trays of fresh bubbly. Reese dodged a laughing couple who almost backed into him as he made his way to the steps that led onto the stage. The vast majority of the crowd of about two hundred were gathered near the candidate or were focused in his direction. Even the waitstaff was more concerned with debris left on the tables than on the stage itself. As Lauren recorded, Reese crept up the steps, slipping the latex gloves on as he went.
Holding her breath, she watched as he briskly crossed the stage, snapped up the flute by the stem, turned and walked back the way he came in what seemed like a single fluid motion. With his free hand he fished the plastic evidence bag out of his pants pocket and slid the glass in as he hugged the wall, making a beeline for Lauren, who captured the entire event on her phone.
Out of the corner of her eye Lauren saw Vince spinning away from the woman he was talking to. Oh shit, Lauren thought. He caught Reese’s stage show.
“Let’s get out of here,” Reese said in the low voice, handing her the bag, then peeling the gloves off, dropping them on the floor. They zigzagged their way through the crowd, getting stopped by a group of women taking a selfie. They managed to maneuver around the photoshoot to get to the door.
“Hey!”
As they stepped out into the hallway, the sound of Vince’s voice cut through Lauren. Her head snapped up. Vince was standing in his black suit, chest heaving ten yards down the hall, blocking their exit. Reese’s hand went to the small of Lauren’s back as he quickly guided her around and they made their way in the opposite direction.
Lauren and Reese followed a stream of workers who were coming and going from a pair of doors off the main hallway.
“In here,” Reese told her as they entered the venue’s kitchen. “Look for an exit.”
He barely had time to get the last word out when a silver serving tray smashed into his head from behind, sending him crashing into Lauren. Her phone, which was still recording, flew out of her hand, skittering across the floor. Lauren fell into a waitress carrying another round of champagne, sending herself, the girl, and the glass flutes crashing to the ground. All around her, stainless-steel appliances gleamed under recessed lights as Vince Schultz advanced on them.
“What the hell were you doing up there?” Vince demanded, grabbing Reese by his coat, swinging him into a wall. Empty bottles fell from a floating shelf onto one of the prep areas, exploding like bombs, showering them both with glass.
Momentarily dazed, Lauren watched as the staff stood stunned, shocked by the melee going on in front of them. Relieved the evidence in her hand was still intact, she looked up to see Vince and Reese locked together in a struggle against the far-right wall. Reese had Vince by the shirt colla
r pinning him back, while Vince’s hand groped the nearest dirty tray table, trying to grab onto something. Butter knives and spoons scattered around his fingers.
“What are you looking for?” Reese hissed as Vince took a wild swing at him with his other hand. “Something to stab me with like you did her? You fucking coward.”
“She was an accident,” Vince spat back, managing to land a punch on Reese’s temple. Reese sailed toward Lauren, who was scrambling on her hands and knees to retrieve her phone. She could see it had come to rest under one of the industrial-sized ovens. Bleeding from what looked like a cut from the broken glass, Reese tumbled on top of her, crushing her down.
“Why are you two here?” Vince demanded again as the kitchen staff scattered, screaming and calling for help. Stomping over to Lauren, he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back, lifting her off Reese. Vince dragged her back, legs kicking as her hands flailed about, reaching for something to stop his momentum.
Backing her onto one of the food prep islands, he braced her against the countertop as he tried to get his other arm around her neck. Lauren grabbed the only thing within reach, clutching it in her fist and plunging it into Vince Schultz’s face.
He let out an insane shriek, releasing her hair. As she tumbled away from him, she saw a long silver fork sticking out of his cheek, the tines buried deep into his skin.
Crawling like a crab, somehow still clutching the bag holding the intact champagne glass, Lauren grabbed her phone from under the stove and hooked an arm through Reese’s, hauling him up. Sputtering and swearing, Vince yanked the fork out of his face, leaving four distinct blood trails running down his face. Flinging the utensil away, he lunged forward, stepped squarely into a puddle of spilled bubbly and glass shards, and slid into a tower of dessert plates, sending everything crashing down.
The Murder Book Page 20
