by M. M. Silva
Doob exhaled loudly. “Great. We came to try to solve one case and ended up with another one. Can we please at least eat some of Mr. Johnson’s food before you have him locked up?”
“His library has a name, for God’s sake.”
“What?”
“Never mind, no more Malcolm Johnson talk for now. Thanks for waiting for me, by the way, which is more than I can say for my other friends,” I said, swiveling my head around. “Where are they? Or did Kayla get thrown out already?”
Doob smiled. “The guards were giving us a bit of a hard time about not moving along to the ballroom, so Kayla and Jeff went on in, but they’ve been texting me the whole time. They didn’t ditch you, Meg. They just didn’t want to make a spectacle.”
I laughed. “Kayla make a spectacle? God, never.”
“Let’s go find them and let them know you didn’t get chopped up.”
We quickly found Kayla and Jeff near the entrance to the east ballroom, and I quickly recapped the meeting with Malcolm.
“So he’s off the hook on just a hunch?” Kayla asked. “That doesn’t seem too…I don’t know…scientific or whatever.”
“Not off the hook completely,” I conceded, “but he doesn’t feel right for Charlie’s death. I just hope I can nail his ass for the finial. But please keep your mouths shut about it until I can tell someone who can do something about it.”
“Finial schminial, I don’t give a shit. Can we please go scout out some rich pieces of ass now? I’m pretty sure I saw a few of the New England Patriots earlier,” Kayla said in an excited whisper.
Jeff smiled. “Are the cheerleaders here too?” Kayla lightly punched his arm. Evidently she was the only one allowed to be a pig in the group.
“I’d settle for a piece of pie or candy,” Doob moaned.
I glanced at my watch. “Dinner is in about forty-five minutes, Doob, but we’ll find you plenty of appetizers before that. Let’s get some champagne, and then Kayla and Jeff can go out on the celebrity prowl. Just get to our table in time for the dinner, please,” I said. Meagan-Maloney-Mother-Responsible-Extraordinaire.
As if on cue, a tuxedo-clad waiter glided by our group, and Kayla grabbed two flutes of the golden liquid. Handing one to Jeff and hooking her arm through his, she said, “Let’s go. See you suckers later.” Jeff looked back at us with a mock-look that pled for help, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. He was getting a kick out of Kayla and seemed happy to go wherever she led him.
Doob and I spent the next forty minutes strolling the open parts of the mansion. There were pillars and marble everywhere, standard equipment. Ice sculptures shaped like dolphins—larger than both Doob and me—were scattered around the home, and they didn’t seem to serve any purpose except to add to the shine of the evening. Frescos rivaling those in the Vatican domed many of the rooms, while floor-to-ceiling windows glittered by the light of endless chandeliers. Several sections opened up to outdoor, intricately carved, stone gazebos lit with hundreds of candles and featuring gemstone-crusted waterfalls.
Just before dinner, I went into one of the bathrooms and counted fifteen stalls. I had to remind myself I was in a home and not a grand hotel. The restroom contained black granite, gleaming silver fixtures, and muted rose lighting so the women in front of the sparkling mirrors would see themselves in a lovely pinkish hue. Did this room have a name?
“We’re going to have to see the wine cellars after dinner,” I said to Doob as we walked toward one of the ballrooms to meet up with Jeff and Kayla for dinner. “What number table are we at again?”
“Twenty-two.”
We found our friends already seated at the beautiful table with six other dinner guests. The tablecloth was a delicate white fabric with lace trim, and the silverware twinkled like stars. Our centerpiece, twenty-four white roses surrounding eleven tiered, white pillar candles, brought out the perfect shine in the wine glasses. Above each setting was a thick place card with our names stenciled in elegant silver calligraphy.
No detail had been overlooked. I guess this was what two thousand dollars a plate bought.
I lost count after the fourth of fifth course as we wined and dined on one of the most fabulous meals I’ve ever eaten. We began the feast with a charming appetizer of tiny Parmesan cheese baskets filled with goat cheese mousse, followed by a shrimp cocktail with a peppery sauce, served in fabulous martini glasses with lemon juice and minced parsley coating their sparkly edges. A fresh grapefruit and mint sorbet came next, and then we moved on to the soup, butternut squash garnished with swirls of crème fraiche. A mesclun salad over stuffed pasta shells had the perfect balance of garlic and onion. By this point, I glanced over at Doob who hadn’t moved his head more than three inches from the top of his plate since dinner began. It would be a while before he’d be capable of speaking again.
Then came the entrée, oh sweet entrée. Here in the Ocean State, I should have guessed the main dish. Mouth-watering lobster was paired with creamy twice-baked potatoes. Snow peas and carrots tossed in olive oil and lemon juice, topped with a red tomato flower garnish, finished off the presentation brilliantly. Dessert was a choice between small chocolate round cakes or lemon hazelnut tiramisu. The final course offered luscious lattes. Never before had my caffeine tasted so delectable. The variety of colors, flavors and textures were simply heavenly, and I vowed to enroll in a cooking class as soon as I got back to Boston.
As the servers cleared the lovely china, the evening’s speakers were announced, and I admired the smart planning of the organizers: get to their wallets while they’re still orgasmic over the food. As I pondered the caloric intake just ingested in the massive ballroom, I did my best to listen to the three presenters discuss literacy for underprivileged children. They all did a spectacular job, and I had no doubt the evening would be a huge success for the charity. When we were excused to enjoy the remainder of the evening, I wondered how in the world anyone could possibly move.
Whining, Doob echoed my sentiments. “I can’t walk.”
“You didn’t have to eat everything they put in front of you, Doob,” Kayla quipped. “Plus, you could use some meat on those bones. Let’s go find some champagne and dance it off.” One of the areas with live music was a string quartet, and Kayla had wanted to check it out since we arrived.
This perked Doob up immediately, and we were soon swaying to the music in another magnificent ballroom and enjoying some cocktails a la rich people. It was very pleasant until…
“Oh. My. God,” I whispered as I spotted Gina Giovanni. She looked absolutely friggin’ gorgeous, strutting our way like a model on a catwalk. Her long jet-black hair was tied back in a severe ponytail, and she had on a sequined gold dress with a neckline that plunged down nearly to her belly button, coupled with a hemline almost as high as her belly button. Somehow she pulled it off.
Gina was my arch nemesis and everything I disliked in another human being. We’d met at Suffolk University when I was toiling to get my master’s degree, while she was there just for the heck of it because her daddy wanted her to get a graduate degree. God has less money than her family. She’d never finished Suffolk. She’d never worked a day in her pampered priss-ass life. I’m sure that hadn’t changed since I’d last seen her.
Doob saw her coming, blanched, and took Jeff by the arm to stealthily guide him away. Doob is usually up for a catfight, but he knows there’s meow and then there’s MEOW. He tends to avoid the latter.
Kayla turned, and her jaw dropped as Gina approached. Several other jaws in the vicinity had already hit the floor, and Gina ate up every second of the attention.
“Meagan Maloney, as I live and breathe. I had to come see for myself if it was actually you, because I couldn’t imagine you attending an event like this,” she said in a voice that was way too loud for the occasion. She waved her arm around, gesturing at the room in general. “Are you part of the wait staff or doing the coat-check or something?”
“Where’s the rest of your dress, bit
ch?” Kayla snarled. She’d never met my rival, but given the fact Gina was garnering a lot of attention from the men, not to mention insulting me in the process, was enough for Kayla to release her claws.
Gina looked at Kayla as if she’d just passed gas and then turned back to me. “And I see you brought a foul-mouthed little friend along with you. How nice they let you work in pairs; that way you two can ride together and save on gas money or whatever it is you people do.”
“Gina, there you are!” A handsome older man in a tuxedo swooped into our little threesome and cupped one of Gina’s elbows while giving her a kiss on each side of her cheek. His slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly groomed, and his tan was very dark for this time of year. It was also kind of orange. Gross.
“Gina, darling, I want you to meet the senator from Connecticut. He’s been asking after you,” the man said with a conspiratorial wink. As he steered Gina toward the senator, he flashed a dazzling smile our way, his overly-bleached teeth nearly blinding us.
Gina couldn’t resist a barb over her shoulder as they walked off. “Keep up the good work, ladies. The bathrooms look spectacular.”
Kayla started to lunge after Gina, and I had to physically restrain her, which was no small feat. She is amazingly strong for such a skinny thing.
“That was fucking Gina Giovanni?” Kayla snarled.
I nodded and took a deep breath. “The one and only.”
“We can’t let the bitch get away with that! Who the fuck does she think she is?” Kayla barked, her volume increasing with each word.
I hooked my arm through hers. “I didn’t even get a word in edgewise,” I said, steering Kayla away from Gina’s general direction. “Don’t let her wreck our night. Let’s go find the boys.”
“Hey, no broken bones that I see,” Doob said with a smile as we found them in a different section of the ballroom, this one with a lady playing a beautiful, wooden harp that looked to be about six feet tall.
“Not yet,” Kayla growled.
Jeff gestured toward the harpist. “She used to play in the Boston Symphony. We’ve been ka-bitzing with the locals,” he said, a playful note in his voice, as he smiled over at two elderly women sitting at a small table near the music. They looked like Queen Elizabeth and Princess Anne, with ridiculously large hats atop their gray heads. One waved coquettishly when we looked over, and both of the boys waved back in similar fashion.
“Are you serious? They’re a hundred,” Kayla quipped. “You two have lost your touch.”
“Eunice has a house in Tuscany we can visit anytime, and Mildred is donating two hundred fifty thousand dollars to the cause tonight,” Doob said indignantly. “I could do worse.”
Laughing, I motioned to a waiter walking by and grabbed two glasses of champagne for Kayla and myself. The four of us continued to enjoy the music and actually had some very interesting conversation with Eunice and Mildred. I definitely wanted to be as cool as them when I was a hundred—minus the hats—and I was sad when they left for the evening.
The effects of the Gina-sighting had just about worn off when the priss re-entered our space, a huge smile on her face I could see from across the ballroom. Once again, Doob darted like a scared rabbit and took Jeff with him.
“Good grief,” I said and grabbed Kayla’s arm. “Let’s go check out the pool pavilion, shall we?”
“The wha—”
Steering her toward the pool area, I leaned in to whisper to her. “I had a Gina sighting. Hopefully I misread her stupid clown face, and she’s zeroing in on someone else.”
We arrived at one of the many sets of French doors that opened to the pool pavilion, a term the very rich evidently use for a grandiose pool area. If Eunice’s Tuscany home had this setup, I was in.
The pool itself was long and narrow, and looked to be about one hundred feet long. The floor surrounding it was all beige marble, and dotted throughout were oversized plants, chaise lounges and elegant chairs in warm brown, orange and neutral colors. The walls had some type of golden hue—probably paint dipped in actual gold—and the ceiling was mostly glass so the guests could look up at the stars. Like the rest of the mansion, there was no shortage of multi-tiered chandeliers and candelabras. The view from any of the multiple sets of French doors overlooked the Atlantic Ocean.
I was soon going to be on sensory overload.
“Ladies!” I heard Gina squeal as she stalked us, and I groaned loudly. Didn’t she have her own pavilion to go play in?
Kayla and I turned, and Kayla’s hand went immediately to her hip. She was looking forward to Round 2, and from the look on Gina’s face, she was also relishing the opportunity.
“What now, Gina?” I asked, impatience lacing my voice. “Done with the senator so soon?”
She ignored my tone and kept the mega-watt smile on her face. “Oh no, Meagan. I’m certainly not done with him. But men like him will wait for girls like me. They know quality when they see it.”
“He’s clearly drunk off his ass,” Kayla said. “You totally look like a hooker, and your whoo-ha is hanging out of your dress.”
To her credit, Gina didn’t look down to see if her crotch was, in fact, hanging out. She just kept smiling, and I sensed the insult-train coming, but I didn’t know how quickly or how hard it was going to slam into me.
“That’s exactly why I came over to see you two ragamuffins again,” she said in a sing-song tone. I thought she might actually reach out and ruffle our hair.
“Listen, you sequined Amazon—”
I put a hand on Kayla’s arm to shut her up because I felt—knew—something huge was coming, and every part of my brain was trying to figure out what it was.
Gina kept prattling on, her giddiness and enormous smile growing by the second. “See, Bab’s daughter, Coco, is a great friend of mine. And yes, she’s named after the Coco, a dear friend of Bab’s. High society tends to stick together, you know.” She sniffed and looked us over. “Actually, you two probably don’t know. Just take my word for it.”
I felt Kayla stiffen beside me, and both my fists reflexively balled up, but Gina didn’t even take a breath before she plowed on.
“Anyway, Coco and I were sorority sisters. I’ve been in this house hundreds of times, so I don’t look like a gaping little schoolgirl like you both do. You could really at least pretend to blend in. My heavens.” She shook her head as if we were a lost cause.
I’d had it. “Gina, that’s enough. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your over-painted mou—”
But she cut me off by holding up a perfectly manicured finger. “Oh shush, Meagan. I’m just getting to the best part. As I was saying, Coco and I were chatting it up with the politicos earlier when she noticed her dress from across the room!” Gina exclaimed and pointed at me. “She said it’s a little too loose in your chest area, but she was so glad a less fortunate girl was able to use it. After all, that’s why she drops things off at those consignment-type shops.” She stared at me in triumph, with that ridiculous huge smile still plastered to her perfect face.
Can. Not. Be. Happening.
I barely felt Kayla take my champagne glass and set it on a small nearby table. Then she touched my arm lightly and hitched her head toward her right. I nodded in agreement.
As smooth as if we’d choreographed it, we each grabbed Gina under one arm and herded her the two remaining steps and plopped her in the shimmering pool. She screamed as she hit the water, and Kayla and I took off running as fast as our second-hand shoes and dresses would allow.
CHAPTER 19
THE LIMO RIDE HOME PROVED TO BE EXTREMELY JOVIAL as Kayla recounted the dumping-of-Gina into the pool several times over for the gentlemen. The champagne made Kayla even more animated than usual, and Jeff and Doob were both engrossed with the recap, but Doob was upset he’d missed it.
“You were the one who scampered off both times she came around,” I pointed out.
“I know,” Doob whined. “That’s because I don’t w
ant to be collateral damage. But with her in the pool, she wouldn’t have been able to catch me. I’d have loved to have seen that catfight.”
“It really wasn’t much of a fight,” Kayla countered. “That snippy bitch flung some insults, and we shoved her in. I wonder what that senator thinks of her now. Hopefully her hair extensions got caught in the pool drain and wrapped around her throat—”
“Kayla!” I exclaimed. “That’s bad karma. I definitely hope she looks like a drowned rat, but I find myself wondering if she can swim,” I mused.
Kayla batted a hand my way. “Oh, fuck her! I’m sure some muscle-bound rich guy got her out of the pool, and there are probably lowly servants fawning all over her as we speak. She’s fine. Uppity bitch.”
I looked at Jeff and Doob for confirmation, and they both shrugged as to say who cares? And they were right. Gina wasn’t going to drown at some shee-shee-foo-foo event in Newport. It would be bad press, and God knows the elite of Newport don’t want bad press.
“Well Jeff, thanks again for getting us those tickets, although I don’t think we’ll be invited back to a gala anytime soon. I hope we haven’t ruined your reputation this early into your residency.”
He smiled. “Oh, I really couldn’t care less about all that. It’s not like I attend those events regularly.”
Suddenly Kayla put her hand over her mouth. “You gonna be sick?” I asked. She was a legendary puker if she had more than three glasses of anything other than light beer. She nodded vigorously and started reaching for the door.
“William, please pull over for a moment!” I yelled. “Otherwise you’re gonna have a mess all over the inside of your car.”
Fortunately Kayla jumped out of the limo before regurgitating all her drinks and eight-course meal. She stumbled back into the vehicle relatively intact, and Doob handed her a couple of napkins he’d dabbed in bottled water.
From there on, the ride was quiet. As we closed in on Jeff’s house, I remembered my cell phone, the ringer dutifully shut off. Resting in my sequined clutch all night. I had half a mind to leave it in there, but I’m nothing if not a modern girl. So I fished it out of my clutch to see if I’d missed anything.
