“That’s for certain.”
As one, we glanced at my guest chair and the pile of newspapers that had been brought in by well-meaning customers. It seemed like every day, another one was added to the stack. The front page of that day’s Washington Post featured a photo of the senator at a Kennedy Center concert with Eve on his arm. The Style section of the Baltimore Sun showed a picture of Eve and the senator at a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a children’s health clinic. The local Alexandria paper had gotten caught up in the frenzy. Eve was front page news there, too.
As for the tabloids…
I looked over the array of yellow journalism rags that had been dropped off by Monsieur Lavoie, who seemed to be getting a real kick out of Eve’s newfound celebrity. I shook my head, honestly amazed that word could spread so far, so fast. “The Bureaucrat and the Beauty Queen” one headline screamed. “Could She Be Our First Lady Someday?” asked another.
“I’m glad Eve is having the time of her life,” I said, and I meant it. “But I miss having her around. I miss having her with me when I investigate. It’s always easier for me to think out loud, you know? Without her here to listen to me, I feel like I’m getting nowhere fast with this investigation.”
“Then tell me.”
I guess my expression must have said it all.
“No, I mean it,” Jim said. “Come on.”
Before I could protest, he had me by the hand and was leading me into the kitchen. He draped an apron over my head, tied it behind my back, and walked me to the stove.
“Oh, no!” I locked my knees. “Been here, done that. Remember?”
“I do.” Jim’s smile was bright. “That’s why I’m going to do the cooking.” He reached for one of the carrots sitting near the cutting board and pointed at me with it. “You,” he said, “are going to do the talking. Go ahead, Annie.” He turned and got to work, chopping carrots and quartering heads of cabbage. “Tell me what you’ve found out. Run your theories by me the way I run my menu ideas by you. Maybe if I understood more about what you’re doing and how you’re doing it, I’d worry less that it’s going to get you in trouble.”
“That’s sweet.” It was, and I didn’t mean to downplay the offer. “But if I stand here and talk, I’m going to slow you down. There are plenty of people waiting for drinks and dinner.”
“Aye, and one of them is none other than Jacques Lavoie himself. When I went to your office to talk to you, I asked him to take over for me behind the bar.”
“Are you sure?”
“There are some things more important even than Bellywasher’s.” Jim finished with the carrots and whisked the chopped pieces into a pot. “You’re one of them. And if you’re hell-bent on being a detective, who am I to stop you? Tell me, Annie. Tell me everything.”
I did, up to and including the e-mail message from Dylan threatening Sarah.
By the time I was done, Jim had already added chicken breasts and seasoning to the pot where he’d put the carrots. He carried it over to the stove and turned it on to simmer.
“That’s serious, no doubt of that,” he said when he turned back to me. “Do you think that message from Dylan means he might have killed her?”
I shook my head. “I honestly don’t know. But it could mean he was jealous, and if he was, it could mean that he knew about Sarah’s relationship with Dougy Mercy. And if Dylan knew about Sarah and Dougy, I bet that means other people did, too. Like maybe Lorraine Mercy.”
“And there’s another bit of jealousy we have on our hands.”
I liked the way Jim said we. Just knowing he was on my side made me feel better about succeeding with my investigation. “That gives both Dylan and Lorraine motive,” I said. “Of course, we don’t know if either one of them had opportunity. And we don’t know anything about the money, either.”
Jim had been paying attention as I talked. He nodded. “You mean the money Sarah must have needed to live the lifestyle she did. And to buy that little yapper of hers a diamond collar.”
I remembered the trip I’d taken to the groomer with Eve and Doc. “A diamond collar engraved with his initials. And—”
When I stopped talking in the middle of a sentence, Jim was immediately concerned. “Annie?” He reached for my hand. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Really. I was just thinking. About the diamond collar. It had Doc’s initials inside.”
“And?”
“And I’ve been such an idiot! They’re Doc’s initials, all right, but they aren’t only Doc’s initials. DM. That could mean Doctor Masakazu. It could also mean Dylan Monroe. Or Dougy Mercy.”
“Or Douglas Mercy.”
“Do you think one of them gave her the money to buy that collar?”
Thinking, Jim pursed his lips. “It’s most likely to be Dougy. They were having an affair, after all.”
“But Renee doesn’t seem to think he could slip the money past Lorraine.”
“Which leaves us with the other two to consider.”
“Or the fact that DM really does stand for Doctor Masakazu.”
Jim tapped a finger against his chin. “This detective business, it’s not as easy as it looks on TV. I’m impressed. I, for one, could never make sense of it all.”
I wasn’t sure I could, either, but I was too busy basking in the glow of that “I’m impressed” to point it out. “What we need is a break in our case,” I said.
“Be careful. When the cops on TV say that, someone else dies.”
I cringed. “Not what I meant at all. I mean another clue. Something to point us in the right direction. Either Dylan or Lorraine could be our killer. If this was TV, we’d find a letter written by one of them.”
“Or blood on their clothing.”
“Or we’d be invited to an island with all the suspects.”
“Or a spooky old castle.”
“Or a—”
“Fabulous, beautiful, glamorous ball!”
Do I need to point out that neither Jim nor I made that last comment? It came from Eve as she threw open the door and bounded into the kitchen. “I feel like Cinderella,” she said, and she twirled around in the center of the room. No mean feat, considering that we were surrounded by racks of pots and pans, and that both the grill and the stove were in use. She stopped when she realized she was going to do one of us—or herself—some serious harm.
Her cheeks glowed. Her eyes gleamed. “I’m going to a real, live, honest-to-goodness black-tie, formal ball,” she said. “It’s a fund-raiser. Well, it’s the fund-raiser of the year. And you…” She reached into her Kate Spade bag, produced two tickets, and handed them to me with a flourish. “You two are coming along.”
IN A CITY LIKE WASHINGTON, FUND-RAISERS ARE literally a dime a dozen. Pick a night—any night in any week—and my guess is you can find at least three worthy causes holding three different functions in three separate places around town. More on weekends.
What made the one Eve invited us to different? Well, a couple things.
Number one, Eve was right. This was the real deal. A black-tie affair where the vice president was going to be the guest of honor and the featured speaker.
The political connection, of course, explained how Eve got invited and how she had snagged Jim and me a couple of the coveted tickets, but it wasn’t the only reason I was excited. As she did only once each year, Lorraine Mercy was sponsoring the event, a black-and-white ball, as a way to raise awareness and funds for a breast cancer survivors’ group. Any event Lorraine associated her name with was bound to be not only successful but classy as well.
We might be from the almost-seedy side of Alexandria, but suddenly we were A-list all the way.
I was jazzed, all right, because along with Eve and the senator, Jim and I were to be seated at Lorraine’s table.
I wondered how Lorraine would feel if she knew that someone she was set to break bread with was planning to use the opportunity to find out if she knew about Sarah’s affair with Dougy. And if she did,
was she mad enough about it to kill?
As we got ready for the big event in my apartment, I mentioned that fact to Eve. She was just slipping into her gown, a white silk sheath that clung to every curve and in the front was cut down nearly to her navel. She poked her head out of what there was of a neckline and made a face at me.
“No way,” Eve said. “You can’t possibly suspect Lorraine.”
In logic-be-damned mode, I had bought a gown for the occasion. I was just unzipping the garment bag from the tailor’s where I’d taken it to be hemmed when Eve made her comment I glanced over my shoulder. “What do you mean, we can’t suspect Lorraine? Lorraine and Dylan, I thought they were our two best suspects?”
“That was before.” Eve fluffed her hair and skimmed a hand over her hips. She looked like a million bucks, and she knew it. “Before I got to know Lorraine so well. I told you, Annie, when we were at Doug’s horse farm for Thanksgiving, I helped Lorraine with some of the grunt work for the fund-raiser. You know, special invitations and all. And I’ve been at the hotel a couple times this week with her, too, helping with the final stage setup and the flowers and the centerpieces. Oooo!” Eve’s eyes glowed. “Wait until you see those centerpieces. Black-and-white, of course. Like the rest of the party. And these huge candelabra and twinkly stuffand flowers and…” The mere idea of it was enough to make her sigh. I reminded myself to tell her not to do that too often or too quickly at the ball. Her dress was not designed for it.
“Lorraine is a loving and caring person,” Eve said. “She dedicates herself to all kinds of good causes. And she runs that sleep clinic, too. Really, she runs it, she’s not just a figurehead. She’s terrific. You’ll see. You’ll talk to her tonight. If you want, you can help us backstage, too. I promised her I’d do a final walk-through with her right before the festivities start. You’ll see that there’s no way she could have had anything to do with Sarah’s death.”
“I hope you’re right.” I took my gown out of the bag. I have to admit, when I did, my hands shook. Aside from my wedding gown, I’d never owned anything as beautiful. Or as expensive.
Because I knew Eve would be wearing white, I decided it didn’t make any sense to try to compete. I’d only come out looking like an also-ran and besides, white was bound to make my complexion look pasty. I’d chosen floor-length black chiffon with a belted waist and a sprinkling of rhinestones on the skirt and across the bodice. Of course, when it came to necklines, mine wasn’t anywhere near as daring as Eve’s. The neckline was high enough to be modest and just low enough to show off a little décolletage. As Eve had told me when we shopped for the gown, “If you’ve got it, honey, you might as well flaunt it.”
I wasn’t used to flaunting. Anything. I slipped into the gown and scooped my hair off my shoulders so Eve could zip the dress for me.
I stared at the woman who looked back at me from my mirror. Except for the fact that I recognized my bedroom furniture behind her, I wasn’t sure I knew her at all. Her cheeks were bright with excitement, her eyes glowed, and the gown…
“Well? What do you think?”
Behind me, I saw Eve smile. “He’s gonna love it!”
I whirled around. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
She giggled. “Of course it is! Annie, you look amazing. And he’s gonna notice, too. I guarantee it.” Her cell phone rang. She answered, talked for a moment, and flipped it shut. “My driver is here,” she said. “I’m meeting Doug at the dinner.” She pulled me into a quick hug, then reached in her purse. “I got Doc’s collar from the jeweler just like I said I would.” She handed it to me and hurried out of the bedroom. “I’ll see you there. Don’t be nervous.”
“Nervous?” I slipped the collar over my hand. It really did look like a bracelet. I reminded myself that walking around wearing a few thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds on my wrist was the least of my worries. “What do I have to be nervous about?”
Just as Eve opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, my phone rang. She paused to listen to my conversation. Just as I suspected, it was Jim calling to be buzzed into the lobby.
“You ready?” he asked.
I gulped down a little spurt of nervousness the likes of which I hadn’t felt since that long-ago day when I took hold of my dad’s arm and waited to walk down the aisle of Saint Charles church to where Peter was waiting for me at the altar.
I banished the thought. “And the restaurant—”
“Oh no!” On the other end of the phone, Jim chuckled. “We made a pact, remember. Tonight, no talk of business.”
“But you checked, right? Lavoie—”
“He’s there. He’s in charge. He knows exactly what he’s to do and what he’s not to do. Now, will you let me into the damned building?”
I buzzed Jim up, and with a wink, Eve closed the door behind her. A couple minutes later, Jim knocked.
I took a deep breath and smoothed a hand over the skirt of my gown. I wondered if my hair looked OK or if I should race into the bedroom and pin it up and—
I told myself to get a grip and opened the door.
Jim grinned at me from out in the hallway. I looked over his dapper tux and blindingly white shirt. The only detour he’d taken from tradition was his bow tie. It was black-and-white tartan plaid.
“You look fabulous.”
“That’s funny.” I laughed. “That’s what I was going to say to you. You look like Prince Charming.”
“Then that’s just perfect.” He bowed. “Because, Annie, to be sure, you look like a fairy-tale princess. Madam.” He offered me his arm. “Your carriage awaits.”
Every cell in my body tingling with excitement, I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me. I didn’t even double-check to see if it was locked.
But still, it seemed some old habits die hard. Halfway to the elevator, I stopped cold. “You didn’t bring your motorcycle, did you?” I asked Jim.
I got the answer I deserved. Jim laughed.
Sixteen
I PROMISED MYSELF I WOULDN’T GET CAUGHT UP IN the Lorraine Mercy mystique, and the whole idea that since she was in charge of the event, we were sure to find ourselves in rarefied territory, high-society speaking.
I was, after all, not attending the black-and-white ball to mingle with the cream of D.C.’s upper stratosphere but to investigate. This was the perfect opportunity for me to interview Senator Mercy again and see if I could find out more about what Eve was reluctant to bring up with him: why he’d noticed the decline in the quality of Sarah’s work when his chief of staff had not. Best of all, since Eve had been Lorraine’s right-hand man (so to speak) these last few weeks and had actually helped with the seating arrangements, she’d put me right next to Dougy for dinner. That meant it was also a chance for me to get up close and personal with him. Did he turn a blind eye to Sarah’s shoddy work because they were sleeping together? Was he the one financing Sarah’s lavish lifestyle? And if he wasn’t, did he know who was?
I thought about my plan as I waited for the valet to open the door of the silver Jag Jim had borrowed for the night from none other than Monsieur Lavoie. When I stepped out of the car and looked over to the main entrance Ritz-Carlton in Pentagon City, another of Arlington’s many neighborhoods, I fingered Doc’s collar (it was still there, it was still safe) and thought more about my plan.
What would Dougy say when he saw the diamond collar? Or would Douglas Mercy himself be the one who would react? Would I catch that fleeting look of recognition, the one that betrayed the fact that one of them had seen the collar before?
Jim came around from the other side of the car, and I automatically took his arm. Yes, it was a formal and old-fashioned sort thing thing to do, but when two guys in tuxedos hopped to it and opened the hotel doors for us, I knew it was right. Need more proof of just how fancy-schmantzy the whole thing was? How about the fact that the first person I saw once we were inside the lobby was the White House correspondent from MSNBC. The second person was a
senator from Arizona. He was chatting with the secretary of labor, who stood near the reception desk along with a woman in the most incredible full-length sable coat I’d ever seen (especially since I was pretty sure it was the only full-length sable coat I’d ever seen) and a man whose name I didn’t know but who I recognized from the newspaper as the ambassador from Great Britain.
Did I lose my cool composure or the smooth smile that would have fooled anyone who happened to glance my way into thinking I actually belonged with these people?
Did I forget my resolve to keep my mind on my investigation and nothing else?
No, I did not.
At least not until I stepped inside the ballroom.
“Oh my gosh!” I sucked in a breath of pure wonder and clutched Jim’s arm a little tighter. “Can you believe it? It’s like something out of a fairy tale!”
When I’d first heard about the black-and-white theme, I’d thought the ballroom was sure to look dull. I was wrong. All around us, people in the requisite attire chatted and sipped champagne and nibbled on the exquisite appetizers being passed by waiters in tuxes. The colors (or lack of them) swirled and blended—contrasts, sure, but so perfect together. The whole scheme was reflected in the centerpieces on every table that were every bit as spectacular as Eve had promised, and even in the gigantic flower arrangements set up on the stage in front of the closed curtain. The flowers were something exotic I couldn’t name, their color as pale as snow. They seemed to float magically in black metal bowls as big as Volkswagen Beetles.
Though he was the least likely person I knew to be impressed with pomp and circumstance, even Jim wasn’t immune. Our arms still entwined, he leaned nearer and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Something tells me we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
I was still grinning about it when I saw Eve. She might be standing with Douglas Mercy and chatting with the anchor from the local six o’clock news, but Eve was Eve, through and through. As soon as she caught sight of us, she grabbed the senator’s hand and headed over.
Murder on the Menu Page 19
