Marcus and Kate found their way back around to us. They were both looking slightly buzzed, having enjoyed too many of the cocktails already. I was thankful Luke was driving us back home.
“I have never had oysters like that before,” Kate said slowly, pointing to the one I had my fingers wrapped around. “Did you try them yet?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure they had champagne,” Marcus slurred. “My new favorite way to eat oysters.”
“They’re quite good,” I said before diving in. “They were considered a delicacy during the twenties. Oysters in a champagne mignonette.” I liked that they had an authentic appetizer.
“I’m not one for oysters,” Luke admitted. “I only like them fried. But let’s be honest, fry anything, and it’ll taste good.”
“Amen to that!” Marcus held his hand up for a high five, but with Luke’s hands full, he only offered his Shirley Temple. We all lifted our glasses in unison.
With the food and drinks flowing, the party had really picked up steam. The place was abuzz with chatter. The vibe radiated with electricity, authentic to the Roaring Twenties.
“Have you guys seen the photo booth yet?” I asked.
“Wait. There’s a photo booth?” Kate tugged my arm.
“Yeah, George mentioned it the other day.”
“Let’s go find it.”
We squeezed through the crowd, noticing the booth at the end of the hallway, just past the main ballroom and dining area.
Melanie and Jack were finishing up inside. We did quick introductions, Melanie loading up her gossip cannon with all of Luke’s details, something I was sure would come back to bite me at Sunday dinner with the family. She was always interested in my love life while she and Jack were like a household name without the household. I couldn’t count the number of times my grandmother asked her when Jack was going to propose.
Marcus and Kate went straight on in, striking poses and using some of the props provided.
“Get in here,” Kate called us over.
Then Luke and I hopped inside with the two of them. The backdrop was made to look like a lineup wall at the police station, complete with accurate height markings. I made a mental note that Luke was above the six-foot mark, but just shy of Marcus in the height department.
“You take this.” Kate thrust a letter board into my hands. It read, County Jail Inmate Number 11022011.
I gave a chuckle, and then posed for our lineup. Then we finished off with a few goofy group shots together, Marcus and Kate were kissing in each one. The closest Luke got to me was to give me bunny ears.
“See! I told you would like him,” Kate whispered as we exited the photo booth.
“The jury’s still out,” I told her. “But I am having a good time.”
“Now, there’s a good-looking bunch.” George Wilson and Suzi bent over the table covered with photo booth props. George donned a fedora while Suzi threw on a long pearl necklace. Wrapping it around twice, it still hung well below her neck.
George wasn’t as calm or collected as he’d been earlier. His forehead glistened with sweat. Maybe it was nerves, or alcohol, or a combination of both. But something was off about him.
Tonight’s a big night, I reminded myself. Like usual, I was reading too much into the situation.
Marcus led us back toward the bar. Like the rest of the mansion, it had a polished and antique feel. If it was actually new, I wouldn’t know it.
Johnny was still hard at work making drinks. An old fashioned for Marcus, mint juleps for the two ladies, and another Shirley Temple for Luke. Johnny must’ve used half the jar of maraschino cherries, making the drink look even more ridiculous. I noticed him give Luke a coy wink, teasing him.
So far, the biggest criticism that could be found was that there was only the one bar tender working. An easy problem they could fix in the future.
We grabbed our drinks and made our way to an open cocktail table.
Then suddenly, the lights flickered off and on once or twice.
And Mara stepped out, looking far more put together than we’d seen earlier on the porch steps.
“Please, if you all could make your way to the ballroom for dinner, mystery, and intrigue.” She put on her Southern accent thick.
The crowd moved in one slow herd to the ballroom. But as the party shifted, the mood stayed electric.
I had butterflies of excitement in my stomach. Now, the evening was truly getting started.
We grabbed our place cards from a table just inside the wide ballroom doors. Table two—it sounded good enough for me, just close enough to the action. My tummy grumbled, hopeful that it would also be second in line for food service.
There were four others already seated at the table, two of which were recognizable faces.
“Oh, yay! Y’all are with us,” Melanie chirped with excitement. “These are our new friends, Patrick and Greg. I forget their character names… Or were those your character names?”
“Those are the real ones,” the man she introduced as Patrick laughed.
Admittedly, the name game was confusing. We took turns introducing ourselves with our true identity and then with our fake. Name tags, I made a mental note for George, next time they did this they needed to use name tags—at least for the character names.
Our first course, soup, arrived after only a few minutes of chitchatting with our table mates. The tomato soup was a darker shade of red than most. First blood for the night, I thought with a sinister laugh. Even my inner-monologue was getting into the murder mystery spirit.
I snapped a photo of it. We sipped our soup, all of us except Luke. Apparently, tomato soup wasn’t his cup of tea. Or rather, cup of soup.
“You should really try it,” I encouraged him. “It’s not bland like most tomato soups. In fact, it’s almost like a spaghetti sauce. There’s basil in it.”
Luke reluctantly broke a piece of a baguette and dipped it. He took a nibble, almost like a child’s bite. Then a cheesy grin spread across his face. “You know what, it’s not half-bad,” he admitted.
“Oh, Luke,” Kate chimed in, “this girl has impeccable taste. You’ll need to listen to her. If she says something is good, it’s good. If she says something is bad, well, then it’s probably adequate for public consumption. We don’t all have her tastebuds, after all.”
“She’s right,” Melanie added. “Allie knows what to eat at just about every restaurant in the state. She’s never led me astray.”
I couldn’t help but notice that while Luke said the soup was good, he didn’t touch it again but instead took a few bites more of the baguette.
Mara found our table. She’d donned a feather boa and earrings the size of tea saucers since the last time we’d seen her. Along with managing the event, she was also standing in as a server. She took our drink orders. Luke and I opted for water. Marcus and Kate requested another of the same, pointing at their empty cocktails.
“It’s time for a few introductions,” George said. “I’m Tommy Mattonie, and I’m the boss around here.” He gave Mara an eye, like the announcement was meant just for her.
George gestured for the first table to stand and introduce themselves to the crowd of onlookers. Next, it was our table’s turn. George rested his hands on the back of Kate’s chair as she stood.
“I’m Misty Minx, and this is my club. Don’t y’all forget who’s really the boss.” Kate threw out a wink for the crowd, so that George couldn’t see.
It was my turn. And now I was regretting my lack of cocktail encouragement.
“I’m Jenny Mattonie. Tommy is my dad.” I promptly sat back down, a bead of sweat beaded on my forehead—this despite the room being almost as cool as the outside air. Public speaking just wasn’t my thing.
But solving this case was. After all, I’d helped to solve one real murder. How hard could a fake one be? I listened intently as everyone else introduced themselves. Everything said mattered, and I didn’t want to lose track of any detail.
&
nbsp; “Thanks for letting us all get to know you,” George announced with gusto. “Now, on to your salads.”
A classic Waldorf salad, not really one of my favorites. It wasn’t the fruit or the nuts, a bit of sweetness or crunch is something a salad needs. But celery? Let’s be honest, the only thing good with celery was a jar of peanut butter.
It took a few shots to get the photo and lighting just right. Then I was careful to pick around the bitter bites of celery.
I glanced over at Luke, his fork moved some things around on his plate but never once did that silver fork grace his lips.
“It’s not my favorite either,” I whispered. I leaned in close to him, and it was the first time I caught a whiff of his cologne. I wanted to stay there in that moment a minute longer, but when I saw Kate’s wide grin and thumbs up I had to force myself away.
“Oh, good. So, you don’t like everything,” he said in relief. He nudged me with his elbow, letting me know he was just giving me a hard time.
I liked his playful nature. I liked how he made me feel. I liked how I let myself feel around him.
This might work, I thought. Then I stuck my tongue out at Kate for good measure.
Another round of drinks made their way to the tables. Mara, Johnny, and the wait staff made sure everyone had plenty.
Again, George stood before the crowd. He looked wearier and wearier each time, much different from the excited enthusiasm we’d seen at the beginning of the night. How could someone go from one extreme to the other in such a short amount of time?
“Listen, I’m going to break character here for a minute,” George said with a sigh. “First and foremost, I want to say thank you so much for coming out tonight—to our very first Murder Mystery Dinner at Bentley’s. And hopefully not the last. Mara and I put in a lot of hard work to make tonight possible. Really, the whole staff. We couldn’t have done it without them. We hope you enjoy your evening. Cheers!”
He raised his glass and downed his cocktail in one gulp. By the look on his face, I knew it burned going down. He found his seat at the first table with a stagger.
The servers again made their way across the room. But there was no food on their trays. This time, they served us with paper. We all received a sheet of paper for collecting evidence.
Relief washed over me. This was needed. I’d been having trouble remembering everyone’s details. I made another note, this one for George to pass these out before the characters went around the room introducing themselves.
George had put so much effort into this, and so far, it was a whopping success. I felt the need to catch his eye and give him a smile and a wink for reassurance.
But when I looked over, his face was in his hands, his breathing labored. Suzi, seated next to him, put a hand to his back. By this point, I figured something was definitely wrong.
Before my eyes, his body twisted. He convulsed. Then he stopped moving altogether. There was no sign of a single breath.
“Did you see what just happened with George, I mean, Tommy?” I asked my table.
“Did he die?” Greg asked. “Now, it’s time to get this party started,” he said excitedly. He grabbed his paper and made a note. Then he pointed George out for Patrick.
“That is part of the party, right?” Melanie asked nervously.
It didn’t matter if it was part of the night or not, I rushed over to his table without another thought. Suzi patted his face with cool water in an effort to help him come to.
“Something’s wrong,” Suzi said worriedly.
On all the TV shows and movies, people checked for a pulse at the neck and wrist. I tried and failed to find a pulse. If there was one, it was too weak to feel.
“Someone call 9-1-1!” I yelled frantically. “Something’s happened to George. I think he might be dead.”
“Finally,” someone yelled from the peanut gallery.
“About time,” I heard another voice say. Then a muttering and scratching of papers drowned out any other sound in the room.
“Here, I’m a paramedic. Let’s see what’s going on.” Marcus ran over. At least he could see this wasn’t part of the show.
Marcus laid George flat on the ground. He checked for a pulse in his neck. A worried look washed over his face.
“Call 9-1-1,” Marcus mouthed to Luke. Then he began to do chest compressions.
Luke had his phone in his hand and was dialing.
It felt like the room was spinning. George was dead. Not Tommy Mattonie, but George.
Tears began to stream down my face as Suzi startled me with a hug. Her sobs rang in my ears.
Marcus continued to do his work as the rest of the room figured out what was happening. Their murmur turned to stark silence.
Mara came out from the kitchen looking confused at the quiet.
“What’s going on?” she asked the room.
When Mara finally found the answer to her question, she collapsed into the nearest chair and began to tremble. She was absolutely shaken to the core.
5
The crowd split into two sects. Most retreated away from the body, back to the recesses of the library and the formal living room. Those of us that were left at the front of the ballroom waited on the ambulance to arrive.
Marcus and Luke took turns performing CPR. Mostly, chest compressions—Marcus had to show Luke how it was done. Then once Luke took a shift, he put his mouth to George’s and performed mouth to mouth before Marcus could stop him.
“We don’t really do that anymore,” Marcus said. Then he asked, “Is there an AED device on premises?”
“No, not that I know of,” Mara answered. She looked over to Johnny, but the bartender just shrugged.
Marcus grimaced then got back down next to George and took over for Luke.
It took close to ten minutes for the paramedics to arrive and take over. Their sirens paraded up the steep drive of the estate, faint at first, but getting louder until they ceased altogether.
Only seconds later, stretcher in tow, a navy blue uniformed man and woman hustled over. A lone police officer and a few firemen made their way inside just after them. The few remaining guests still crowding the body parted to make room.
I continued to try and comfort Suzi. It was obvious she could no longer stomach watching over George.
The paramedics put his body on the stretcher and left the room almost as fast as they’d come in.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “How did this happen so fast? He was fine this afternoon, almost giddy. Nervous, yes. But fine. I know he wasn’t a drinker, but it was that first cocktail—I swear it. He started acting off. I figured it was just nerves and a touch of alcohol. But then he seemed to begin winding down. It was strange. Did you see it?”
“I noticed it too,” I agreed. “So, he hadn’t been feeling under the weather? Do you know, does he have a heart condition?”
“Did he, you mean?”
“Don’t give up, Suzi. They could still save him.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded through my encouragement. “They could, but they didn’t.” She pointed to the two paramedics. They’d now made their way back inside and were talking with Marcus.
“I don’t think he had a heart condition,” Suzi told me. “But being his age, I guess it could happen to anyone. You know he was a runner—like you? Just finished his twelfth full marathon last month. I was there to support him. Just like I was here to support him. We’re old family friends. I dated his younger brother in high school. And our mothers were always close.”
I could tell that Suzi wasn’t telling me the exact truth. They might’ve been friends, but she obviously wanted it to be more than just that.
“I didn’t know he ran,” I said. Running was a solitary endeavor of mine. But I’d always thought about joining the track club—a fleeting thought as I passed them stretching beside the roadway outside Sure Foot Shoes, our local shoe store, where they met to run every Wednesday afternoon.
“Well, he wasn�
��t breaking any records. But he got in twenty—sometimes thirty—miles every week.”
I’d heard of runners sometimes collapsing on the road, never knowing they had a heart condition until it was too late. But something about this felt off. Maybe I’d watched so many ER dramas that now my impression of what a heart attack looked like was all down to bad acting.
George hadn’t clutched his chest. He hadn’t reached for his left arm—or any of the things I’d come to know as signs of heart failure. A glimpse of his convulsing flashed in the back of my mind.
“Do you really think the drink is what caused him to collapse?” I asked her in a whisper.
“I’m not sure anymore.” Suzi shook her head sadly. “Like you said, it could’ve been his heart.” She shut down again. Her lips trembled as a new set of tears streaked down her cheeks. Suzi did her best to fight them away, then gave me a reassuring nod that she was all right.
“Sorry to ask you so many questions,” I said.
“I know you’re just trying to be helpful, sweetie. I just wish I could’ve done more. There’s so much I wanted to say to him…” Those last words stumbled out on their own. They weren’t meant for my ears.
It seemed like the drama of the evening was over. Several people had cleared out. Luke, with his hands in his pockets, came and stood behind me. His brow was still sweaty from helping with the CPR. Both men had panted like I did at the end of a run. CPR was hard work.
Kate was on the phone, probably with the news station. Would something like this warrant a news story? Probably so. In a town as small as Lanai most anything was newsworthy.
Finally, Marcus got done talking with the paramedics and ambled over toward us. He gave Kate a brief questioning look as if to ask if she was ready to leave. He’d sobered up considerably since we first came into the ballroom.
“They couldn’t get any sign of heart activity,” he said somberly. “Hey, Luke, are you all right?”
Marcus rushed over to catch as Luke’s knees collapsed from under him. I turned just in time to see Luke shudder and then gasp for breath.
Foodie Files Cozy Mysteries Box Set Page 12
