“We’re just thankful you and Mrs. Buckley were here,” Rousseau noted. “Otherwise, Zolar and Meagan might have gotten away with the whole thing.”
“Agent Marsh,” Oona bade softly, “you saw the photos of the crime scene. Do you think my husband suffered much?”
“No, Mrs. Bauersfeld, I do not. I think he was asleep when Mr. Zolar entered the tent because there were no signs of a struggle and, from what I’ve heard, your husband was one hell of a fighter, especially when standing up for what was right. You should feel very proud of him, ma’am.” Marsh raised his glass and the Creators drank a toast to Arthur Bauersfeld.
“I have a question for you, too, Stella,” Oona spoke as she dabbed at her moist eyes with a dinner napkin. “How did you know about the magnetic blanket?”
“I have to thank my husband for that one. He took photos and an inventory of every item in that room. You told me, Oona, that when you visited Arthur, he was angry because his blanket was missing. Yet, when we saw the body, the blanket was there, covering him. The problem is, it was soaking wet from the rain. Had Arthur placed that blanket over himself, he would have made extra certain to have kept it dry, otherwise it would have been useless. Therefore, the blanket must have been placed over him by someone else.”
“Well, enough of the darkness that’s enshrouded this place. I think some good news is in order,” Rousseau announced. “I’ve discussed the future of the Cavalcade with a few of you and I’d like to announce that I will staying on as Chief Financial Officer, but the artistic and altruistic duties of my step-father will be taken over by Dan, who will be staying on here at Vue Colline.”
The room let out a collective cheer.
“This is the news most wonderful,” Durand gushed.
Aurora Marici kissed him on each side of the face. “Fantastico!”
B. Ology ran and hugged him, tears streaming down her flushed pink cheeks.
“So, you’re going to live here from now on, Dan?” Nick asked. “That’s quite the move. What will you do with all this space?”
“I’ll still keep the Creators’ guest rooms intact, but as for the remainder of the house, I’ll fill it, from the floor to the rafters, with music. I’ll have a workshop for building instruments. Bring kids in to learn about rhythm. Make it feel alive again.”
Stella glanced over at Rousseau. At the mention of making Vue Colline feel ‘alive again,’ his smile broadened and his tanned countenance took on an even healthier glow.
“And one of the first things we want to do,” Dan continued, “is to set up scholarship funds. One in Phil’s name and the other in Arthur’s. It won’t be much at the start, but if it can encourage an environmentally friendly, community minded engineer to get to school and help make their neighborhood better then every little bit helps. I know it’s too much to ask right now, Oona, but we’d love to have you on board with us.”
Oona erupted in a loud sob. “That – that would be lovely. Thank you. Please count me in.”
It was Aurora’s turn to make an announcement. She tapped her wine glass with her fork to gain everyone’s attention. “Scusami. Chef Durand and I also have some news. We were talking and it seems his ideas have the leadership but not capital, mine has the capital, but needs the leadership.”
“So we decided to help each other,” Durand chimed in. “I’ll be on Aurora’s board. She will back my new restaurant. Which got us thinking –”
“Si,” Aurora agreed. “Perhaps we could offer the service to the Cavalcade. We put Creators together with other Creators –”
“Or financial backers,” Durand added.
“Or the backers financial,” Aurora added. “To find the services they need.”
“What a fabulous idea!” B. Ology exclaimed. “I’ll be your first client. I need to find someone to provide financial backing for my school project.”
“Mademoiselle, we are at your service,” Durand bowed. “And since you’re our first client, we will even waive your fee.”
Aurora pulled a face. “Waive the fee? You no mention the waiving the fee. You need to talk to me first before waiving the fee.”
As the pair bickered, Marsh leaned in to B. Ology. “So, I hear you’re from Boston. You know, I do a lot of field training over there. How about the next time I’m in town, you and I meet up for dinner?”
“Oh, I – I – I make it a policy never to date artists,” B. Ology answered, clearly confused by Marsh’s alter-ego.
Unbeknownst to her, the rest of the room was listening: Stella and Nick both raised questioning eyebrows, Rousseau brought his face to the palm of his hand, Durand stared down at the floor, and Aurora placed her hands on her hips and swore, in Italian, “Mi fa cagare.”
Not to be put off, Marsh replied, “Good. That works out fine! I’ve dated artists, but never one who was a pescetarian. You know there’s a Korean place downtown that makes great sannakji, if you’re brave enough to try it.”
B. Ology’s curiosity was piqued. “Wait. You’ve eaten sannakji?”
“Twice, actually. They also do the standards too. Bulgogi, Gogigui –”
“No!” she nearly shrieked. “No, I’d like to try the sannakji.”
“Cool,” he nodded. “It’s a date. Um, it’s a little stuffy in here. Would you like to take a walk outside?”
“I’d love to,” B. Ology accepted and the pair strolled off, side by side and engaged in pleasant conversation.
Dan nodded at Nick and Stella. “What about you two? Where are you folks headed?”
“Home,” they replied in unison.
“In the morning,” Nick elaborated.
“And then bed,” Stella inserted.
“And then back to work for me,” Nick said with a scowl.
“Work? You were here for work weren’t you? Can’t you take a day off?” Rousseau challenged.
As Nick explained the intricacies of the U.S. Forest Service employment policies, Stella felt the cell phone in her back pocket vibrate. She reached to extract the cell phone, jostling Nick’s arm in the process.
“Hey,” he called her out. “Is everything okay?”
Stella, staring at her phone, was jubilant. “Yes, it’s Alma. She wanted to make sure we were okay. Oh, and she and Mills are booking a trip to Mexico. They want to know if we care to join them.”
“Mexico?” Nick questioned.
“Mexico,” she repeated.
“Vacation?”
“Vacation.”
“Will there be dead bodies?”
“God, I hope not.”
Nick began to laugh deliriously. “I have just one thing left to say then: ‘Adios Bitchados’!”
Short-Circuited in Charlotte: A Pret' Near Perfect Mystery Page 28
