“It’ll be great to see Garrison again,” Buddy said. He unfolded a black linen swan and brushed a speck of puff pastry off his mouth.
“Absolutely,” Jack replied. “I haven’t seen him since that golf tournament at Torrey Pines.” Marvin simply nodded, though Sadie wasn’t sure if it was to agree that seeing Garrison would be good or that Marvin had also last seen him at the tournament.
“Very important men,” Myrtle whispered, covering up her facetious comment with a cough.
“Indeed, they must be,” Sadie whispered back. Which is why they’re at the very back table with us, she added silently.
The musicians switched gears and headed into an up-tempo rendition of “There’s No Business Like Show Business,” which added to the energy level of the already-frenzied crowd. Some guests had taken places at tables, but many others still flitted around the room exchanging air kisses alongside one cheek and then the other.
As the song wound to an end, a tuxedo-clad gentleman near the front of the hall tapped on a microphone, testing it. Assured that the sound system was in working order, he calmly said, “Welcome.” The single word was enough to begin a flurry of movement as people flocked to their tables. After a slight pause, a second greeting of “Good evening” served to herd the rest of the attendees into their seats.
“You may not know me, but my name is James Chalinder.” The man stepped back and smiled as a wave of laughter rolled through the crowd. Obviously, many already knew the man. Sadie hadn’t the foggiest idea who he was. She glanced at Myrtle, who simply shrugged.
“I’m delighted to see you all here,” the man continued, “as I’m sure Mr. Quinlan will be as well.” A round of applause broke loose and then died down. “Our guest of honor will be arriving shortly, I’m sure. Meanwhile, I know you’ve all had a long day in the sun if you were wise enough to get here early—or a long day on the freeways if you weren’t!” Another flurry of laughter followed. “So without further ado, let’s get the delicious feast started now. Enjoy!”
On cue, multiple servers approached tables, setting a salad before each guest. Sadie looked at the mixture of greens as if being tested. Arugula, radicchio, swiss chard, some type of sprout… Not that it mattered. The candied pecans, dried cranberries, and feta cheese were enough to merit Sadie’s approval. She took a bite and sighed with delight. The vinaigrette dressing was just sweet enough to bring out the flavor of the glazed nuts yet not overpowering. She and Myrtle exchanged looks of approval.
Silver trays of olive bread with ramekins of chive butter also landed on each table. Fortunately, a tray was placed on each side of the table, so Sadie and Myrtle were able to serve themselves without interfering in the boastful conversation among the three men across from them. The trio had yet to even say hello, which suited Sadie just fine. Being forward by nature, she normally would have jumped right in and introduced herself. But there was nothing appealing about these particular guests and quite a bit that was less than appealing. Content to enjoy the meal with the company of her new friend, Myrtle, Sadie buttered a piece of bread and let the server remove her empty salad plate.
James Chalinder, the man who had originally welcomed everyone—the emcee, Sadie assumed, still unsure who he was—had taken a seat at the first table, which was full other than one empty chair, presumably that of Garrison Quinlan. Fortunately, the scattering of chairs around each table just happened to allow a line of sight between Sadie and the front table. Over her slice of olive bread, Sadie noted Mr. Chalinder repeatedly checking his watch, as well as glancing at the empty place setting beside him. At one point he inserted a finger inside his collar and tugged at it slightly as if attempting to loosen its grip around his neck.
“That man looks uncomfortable, even worried,” Sadie whispered to Myrtle, who followed Sadie’s gaze to the front.
“He seemed relaxed enough when he welcomed everyone,” Myrtle said, leaning closer to Sadie to observe from her viewpoint. She kept her voice low, as did Sadie, although Buddy, Marvin, and Jack had yet to even acknowledge their existence. “You’re right,” Myrtle continued. “He looks agitated now.”
“Yes,” Sadie said. “That’s the perfect word for it: agitated. I wonder why.”
“Something must not be going according to plan,” Myrtle suggested. “I don’t envy him. I despise being in charge of large events.”
Sadie nodded. She’d coordinated important gatherings for her late husband’s business. It always ended up being more stressful than enjoyable. Either the caterers forgot something, or the PA system malfunctioned, or the guest list was incomplete, or something else went wrong. It was rare for an event to run without a single hiccup when there were so many moving parts. With the celebrity aspect of this particular dinner, she could only imagine the pressure. Still, she found Mr. Chalinder’s behavior curious.
Another round of plates glided onto the table. Distracted by the emcee’s unease, Sadie regarded the miniature poultry set atop a sweet potato puree with caramelized onions, only half-attentive. Myrtle leaned closer and whispered, “Cornish game hen.”
“Oh, yes,” Sadie said, snapping out of her reverie. “So I see. Wonderful.” Coco was going to love this if she could figure a sly way of dropping a few bites into her tote bag. Perhaps if a piece slid off her plate onto the napkin in her lap, and then the napkin happened to slide into the bag…
A side door near the front of the room opened, and a man Sadie didn’t recognize hurried over to James Chalinder’s chair. He leaned forward, cupped his hand, and appeared to speak for just a few seconds. Mr. Chalinder stood abruptly and followed the man out of the room. Other than a few swiveling heads at that first table, silverware continued to click against plates, and the meal proceeded as if nothing were awry. Sadie did her best to keep her curiosity in check, dividing her time between watching the crowd, nibbling on her food, and sneaking bits of game hen to Coco. Each bite was acknowledged with a tiny yip, which was easily muffled by the loud behavior of the three men at the table.
By the time dinner plates were removed and dessert served, more than a few heads were glancing at the empty seat at the front table. A few guests leaned toward each other, exchanging comments.
“Something’s not right,” Sadie said, not bothering to whisper. Buddy, Marvin, and Jack weren’t listening anyway as they were wrapped up in a snide criticism of a friend’s golf abilities.
“What do you think is wrong?” Myrtle asked as she offered Sadie’s tote bag a piece of her own game hen. “Is GQ not going to show up?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” Sadie said, nodding toward the front. James Chalinder had reentered the room. He appeared shaken yet calm as he approached the lectern.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you are enjoying your dinner.” He cleared his throat and repeated the collar-tugging motion Sadie had noticed earlier. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Mr. Quinlan will not be able to join us this evening.” Hushed comments circled the room, a mix of disappointment and questions. “There…” James Chalinder stopped again to clear his throat as his voice cracked. The hushed comments became a rumble of shock and questions. “I’m sorry, but I’m not able to give any more details.” He turned and left quickly through the side door, followed by a woman and a couple of other men who’d been seated at the front table. All looked upset. Slowly guests at different tables stood and left as well, including the men at Sadie and Myrtle’s table.
“This doesn’t look good, does it?” Myrtle said, looking at Sadie, eyebrows raised.
“No,” Sadie said. “This doesn’t look good at all.”
CHAPTER THREE
Sadie lingered in the dining hall, observing others who had attended the event. Some, disturbed by the announcement, left their desserts untouched and hurried from the room, almost as if whatever misfortune had befallen Garrison Quinlan might be contagious. Others remained, exchanging comments among themselves while tapping spoons on the fire-glazed surfaces of their crème brûlées.
&
nbsp; “I think I’ll retire,” Myrtle said after a few bites of the sweet custard. “All this commotion is unsettling, and I hardly need a dessert on top of that fabulous meal.” She patted one hip lightly.
“I understand completely,” Sadie said, mimicking the gesture. “I’m already carrying around a few extra pounds of chocolate. It’s my weakness.”
Myrtle nodded. “Yes, mine too. I do love crème brûlée, but if they’d served a chocolate soufflé, I’d be scraping the bottom of the dish for every last morsel.”
“Of course!” Sadie exclaimed. “Anything less would simply be unreasonable!” When it came to chocolate, there was never any hesitation. “Are you staying here at the hotel?”
“Yes,” Myrtle said. “For the next three nights. You?”
“Several nights as well,” Sadie replied. “We’re on vacation.” She glanced down at the tote bag, and Myrtle did the same, laughing in response. “Why don’t we get together for coffee in the morning, say around nine?” Sadie suggested.
“Great idea,” Myrtle agreed. “How about meeting at that espresso bar in the lobby?”
“Perfect,” Sadie said.
The two women exchanged contact information in case plans changed. Sadie remained another ten minutes or so after her new friend departed, curious to see if the emcee emerged again or if anything else hinted at more information. Seeing no sign of additional activity, she picked up the Yorkie-laden tote bag and returned to her room.
* * *
“Such a strange turn of events, Coco, don’t you think?” Sadie set the bag down on the hotel bed and lifted the petite canine out, gently placing her on the floor. Coco yipped twice in reply, an enthusiastic response. A single yip was more common.
Sadie sat down on the edge of the bed, kicked off her shoes, and wiggled her toes, pleased with the freedom. Eager to change into pajamas—her favorites, a pink flamingo print—she eyed Coco instead and fetched the Yorkie’s rhinestone-studded leash. “I think a little venture outside would be a good idea before we settle in for the night.” She clipped the leash to Coco’s collar and escorted her to the room’s sliding glass doors.
The access to the private garden patio and beach area was the best feature of the upscale accommodation in Sadie’s opinion. Those who were inclined to gather together could easily use the main hallways, greeting others on their way to the hotel’s bar, the Beach Bum, or common areas. Some vacationers loved to mingle, but Sadie viewed vacations as a chance to enjoy quiet time. She didn’t need to travel in order to find crowds. San Francisco offered plenty of opportunities to socialize.
Sliding open the glass doors, Sadie was surprised to find the ambiance not what she expected at all. The peace and quiet she and Coco had enjoyed earlier outside the room was now replaced with the chatter of other guests nearby. Multiple lights bounced along the ocean’s edge, and a muffled but official-sounding voice on a megaphone mixed with the crashing waves.
“Oh dear,” Sadie said, stepping forward onto the sand. She turned back and looped Coco’s leash over the back of a lounge chair. “I think you’d better stay here,” she said quietly, as if to calm Coco’s nerves when it was really her own that were on edge.
Stepping beyond her room’s private fenced area onto the beach, she found other guests had done the same. The chatter she’d heard when she first opened the sliding glass doors grew louder as she joined others from nearby rooms. Watching the activity at the water’s edge, Sadie had a sinking feeling something was terribly wrong. Before she had a chance to approach any of the other guests on the beach, a man from the room next door called over to her.
“I heard they found a body,” the man said.
Sadie walked closer to make sure she heard him correctly. “They found a body?”
“That’s what everyone’s saying,” the man said. He nodded to the left and then the right, indicating others on the beach.
“When?” Sadie asked.
“I’d say about a half hour ago,” the man replied. “At least that’s when I heard shouting and came outside. My wife went to the front desk to see if she could find out what’s going on.” He looked back toward the room. “Here she comes now. Hopefully, she found something out.”
A woman stepped out of the couple’s hotel room and joined her husband on the sand. “The front desk can’t tell me anything. But a coroner’s vehicle just pulled up outside.”
Not a good sign, Sadie said to herself.
“A coroner’s vehicle?” the man asked as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.
“And a media van,” the woman added.
Really, really not a good sign…
“Accidental drowning perhaps?” Sadie said, trying to take a positive route. As if an accidental drowning could be considered positive. But it beat a whole slew of other alternatives.
“Could be,” the woman said. “Swimming after dark would be dangerous, especially without a lifeguard around. I’m Julie, by the way, and this is my husband, Tom.”
Sadie followed with her own introduction. She excused herself for a moment to retrieve Coco from the patio. Unhooking the leash from the lounge chair, she returned to the conversation, Coco contentedly tucked into her arms. Several police officers arrived, joining others already there. They spread themselves across the beach to keep people away from the scene.
“This is crazy,” Julie said. “You see those two arguing over there?” An officer was involved in a heated exchange with a cameraman who was attempting to access the beach with film equipment.
“Each just trying to do his job,” Tom pointed out. “The police should come first, though, in view of the situation.”
“You’re right,” Julie said. “But the media? That makes me wonder… Oh my! You know that celebrity is staying here, right?”
“What celebrity?” Tom said, only half-attentive.
“The GQ guy, Tom,” Julie said, her voice getting animated. “I wonder if that’s why media people are showing up? Do you think…? Oh, it couldn’t be!”
“This would bring the media out in any case, celebrity or not,” Sadie pointed out quickly. It was true, and she wasn’t about to cough up the information that “the GQ guy” hadn’t shown up to the dinner. There would be enough rumors floating around without adding fuel. Julie’s voice had already doubled in volume. It wouldn’t be long before others began coming over to get the latest information. Even if it happens to be true…
Using Coco as a reason to excuse herself—“I must take this little darling inside before she gets cold!”—Sadie retired to her room. There was no point in lingering around what promised to be an escalating situation.
Leaving the sliding glass door cracked enough to be able to hear any developments, Sadie pulled the curtain closed for privacy and changed into her favorite pajamas. She washed her face and applied a layer of Wink-a-Wrink to her skin. Twisting her head from side to side, she debated the reflection in the mirror. The ostensibly miraculous cream had been a late-night infomercial discovery—Wrinkles vanish in a wink with Wink-a-Wrink! So far, no amount of winking had made any visible difference. She brought one hand to her face, ran her fingers along the side of her cheek, and shrugged. Figuring there was nothing to lose, she applied an extra layer.
“What do you think, Coco?” Sadie sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the tops of her flamingo-covered thighs. The Yorkie quickly hopped up from the floor where she’d been watching the nightly ritual. She propped herself up on Sadie’s lap and cocked her furry head to one side. “No, not about the wrinkles,” Sadie said. “But about all this hullaballoo on the beach.” Seemingly without an opinion, Coco curled up in Sadie’s lap and closed her eyes.
Not one to argue with a good suggestion, Sadie moved Coco to her comfortable travel palace, fluffing the velvet pillow. Returning to bed, she slipped between the hotel’s luxurious eight-hundred-thread-count sheets. In spite of the distant hum of activity in the distance, she fell asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
Myrtl
e was already seated in the coffee area of the lobby when Sadie arrived the following morning. Having tossed and turned with odd dreams during the night, Sadie was barely awake.
Myrtle, however, was bright-eyed and clearly caffeinated. She waved one hand enthusiastically as she watched Sadie approach. “Did you hear?” she whispered after Sadie ordered a café au lait at the espresso bar and then took a seat.
Sadie nodded. “I heard and saw,” she said.
“You saw the body?” Myrtle gasped.
“No. I saw the activity on the beach,” Sadie said. Hearing her name called out, she stood and walked back to the counter to pick up her drink.
“You must have one of the ocean-view suites,” Myrtle said, having considered Sadie’s statement by the time she returned to the table.
Sadie took an initial sip of café au lait and set the cup down. “Yes, I do. And there was quite a commotion outside the suite when we returned from dinner.” She glanced at her tote bag, as did Myrtle. Sadie imagined Coco would be content to have her presence acknowledged. At this thought, she went back to the counter and picked up a cranberry orange scone, dropping a nibble into the tote when she finally sat down again. “Isn’t that right, Coco?” A muddled yip followed—a scone-altered reply.
“There were voices outside when we stepped onto the patio,” Sadie explained. “Other guests were on the beach, discussing the scene.”
“Which was what?” Myrtle prodded. “I have a garden-view room, so I can’t see the beach. You must have seen everything!”
“Not really,” Sadie said. “It was all down by the shoreline. But I could see flashlights, and there were police keeping people back from the scene. One reporter in particular was giving an officer a bad time while trying to get closer.”
“Well, reporters need to get the story one way or another,” Myrtle said. “Perhaps getting close is what they have to do even if they don’t get much to report.” She pushed a newspaper across the table to Sadie. “Local paper. Check out the front page.”
A Flair For Flip-Flops (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 5) Page 2
