Tea or Consequences

by KC Burn

  “Riley, mon petit, please let the caterer know that I’m not happy. Others might like a lot of garlic, but it is just excessive.”

  “Of course, Gabrielle.” He’d not heard any other complaints along those lines, but it was Gabrielle’s party—she could be finicky if she wanted.

  “If you will both excuse me, I just need to powder my nose. I’ll return shortly.”

  “Hurry back, Gabby.”

  Gabrielle kissed Cody’s cheek and glided away.

  Gabby? Riley had never heard anyone call her Gabby, and he’d gotten the distinct impression when he’d first met her that any nicknames would mean death.

  “It was nice to meet you, Riley. I have some more mingling to do.”

  Cody was more polite than either of Gabrielle’s kids, so Riley didn’t begrudge him his escape. Riley had more canapés to inspect and a complaint to lodge with the caterers.

  OVER AN hour into the party, a pointy finger tapped Riley on the shoulder, and he bit his lip against an annoyed “What?” that wanted to escape.

  He turned as slowly as he could. Floriana stood behind him, a scowl marring her features. “Have you seen my mother?”

  “Not lately.”

  “If you see her, tell her she should get started with her announcements.” The bitter twist to Floriana’s lips could indicate she didn’t approve of her mother’s intentions, but more likely she was still pissed that she didn’t know what Gabrielle had planned.

  “Of course.” Riley wasn’t all that concerned, though. Gabrielle had mentioned announcements and speeches and such shouldn’t take more than fifteen or twenty minutes, and she wasn’t going to start them until the very end of the party. Wherever she was, he was sure she’d be ready when the time came.

  About twenty minutes later, François approached and interjected himself into the conversation between Riley, Alisha, and a few of the junior lab techs—fortunately Gary was nowhere to be seen.

  “Riley, find my mother. It’s time we wrapped things up.”

  François’s brusque, dismissive manner—and Riley wasn’t the only recipient of his disdain—got his back up. Nevertheless, François was right—it was getting late.

  From somewhere, perhaps the bottom of the champagne flute he’d almost drained, Riley dredged up a smile and a moderate tone of voice. “Certainly.”

  François returned to the small knot of upper-level employees pretending to be accessible to the lower echelons.

  He didn’t see Gabrielle’s sleek updo anywhere. Probably she’d snuck back up to her office to do more work. He admired her work ethic, but she could use a lesson or two in taking a break.

  “Alisha, can you take point with the caterers if something comes up?”

  “Sure, sure. You gotta work, I know.”

  Riley smiled at her, a real one this time. For the most part, the party had gone smoothly, only requiring his intervention a couple of times. This close to the end, he didn’t anticipate any issues.

  There were two ways to get to the executive offices on the opposite side of the floor from the reception area, both of which were accessed by nondescript doors in the lobby. He eased his way through clumps of employees, most of whom had had far too much to drink for a work event, and their spouses or dates, aiming for the door farthest from the crowd and coincidentally closest to Gabrielle’s office.

  Only the much dimmer overnight lights were on in this part of the offices. The long shadows and near dark made the normally welcoming office space slightly eerie, and a tiny shiver raced down Riley’s spine. Behind him, the lobby door shut with a bang, making Riley jump. His embarrassed laugh sounded loud and brash in the atypical silence.

  Straightening his back, he strode down the hall, fruitlessly straining to hear the sounds of the party. But this building was too well made, and the door might as well have been soundproof.

  Gabrielle’s office was as far from the lobby and reception area as possible. A yellow glow spilled out from the space between her office door and the industrial carpet that muffled Riley’s footfalls. Riley smiled. Just as he suspected.

  Riley opened the door. “Gabrielle, you’re missing your party.”

  His first indication that something was wrong was the folder on the floor by his feet, the yellow manila garish against the serviceable charcoal carpet. His smile fell away. “Gabrielle?”

  Gabrielle sat at her desk, sprawled inelegantly in her chair, head back as though sleeping. But the pose was all wrong, as was the disorder on her desk, like someone had shoved at the paperwork, sending half of it to the floor. Her phone was off the receiver. Her laptop wasn’t visible, but Gabrielle put it away when she didn’t need it.

  Heart pounding, prickling with sweat, Riley crept toward the desk.

  “Gabrielle?” He raised his voice a little louder this time, hoping she’d fallen asleep. Passed out. A faint scent of garlic hung in the air.

  Gabrielle didn’t respond. Riley bit his lip and stretched out a trembling hand to shake her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Gabrielle slipped sideways.

  Stomach roiling, Riley felt for a pulse on her neck. Nothing. He’d taken CPR courses, but the cool clamminess of her skin told him there wasn’t any point in trying. She was dead.

  He backed away, afraid he was going to hurl. He closed her office door quietly and slumped, shaking, at his desk. This was the first dead body he’d come across, and he couldn’t help but superimpose the fuzzy memory of his mother’s face over Gabrielle’s. His parents’ funeral had been closed casket because his brother wanted him to remember them as they were when they were alive.

  For a hot minute Riley considered calling his brother, but what was Jon going to do? Stupid impulse. His hands trembled, the sound of his rapid breathing harsh in his ears.

  He hugged himself, tucking his suddenly chilled fingers under his arms as he forced himself to suck in deep, even breaths.

  The cops. 911. That’s what he needed to do.

  Extricating one of his hands, Riley grabbed his handset and dialed, then waited interminable moments until the 911 operator answered.

  By the time he’d given her all the information, he’d started to regain his composure. Emergency services were on the way and… oh shit. Would they go tearing through the party? However much he disliked Gabrielle’s children, he didn’t want them to find out about their mother like that. Nor did he want them to start looking for their mother and, well, find her.

  Another moment went by while he considered options; then he ran back to the lobby. He let himself through the door, moving swiftly but not fast enough to draw attention. Fortunately Alisha’s sexy red dress was easy to spot in the crowd, and he homed in on her.

  “Excuse me,” he apologized to the people she was talking to. “I need to borrow Alisha for a moment.”

  He dragged her almost out to the reception desk.

  “What the fuck is going on, Riley?” She wasn’t angry, just concerned. Obviously he wasn’t pretending to be composed nearly as well as he’d thought.

  “Gabrielle’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “Shush!” Riley had spoken in a whisper, but Alisha’s response had been loud and shocked.

  Alisha gripped his arms so tight he might end up bruised, but she spoke quietly enough. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I went to her office and found her dead.”

  “Oh my God. That’s awful. You have to tell François. Floriana. The police?”

  Riley tried to be patient, because he’d done the same panicked freak-out. “Would you want to break that news to them?”

  Alisha’s eyes widened. “No. Hell no.”

  Her children would fall more to the “shoot the messenger” side of the spectrum.

  “I called 911. I don’t know who’ll show up, though. EMTs or fire department, maybe? Anyway, I want to go back to the office, prevent anyone from going in before emergency services show up.”

  Alisha sucked in a breath. “Oh my God
. She was murdered?”

  The words hit like a slap in the face. “What? No. I don’t think so. Why would you say that?”

  “Because you want to keep anyone from going inside. Protecting the crime scene.”

  The skeletal fingers of another chill played with Riley’s spine. He’d not once considered Gabrielle had been murdered. “That’s far too melodramatic. Seriously, I just want to keep her kids from barging in and having to see her like that.”

  Alisha’s eyes teared up. “You are a good man, Riley Parker. After this all blows over, you’re going to have to help me find your straight doppelganger.”

  The ridiculous statement was unexpected enough to return Riley’s equilibrium. He’d dealt with all sorts of emergencies and last-minute issues as part of his job. Just because this situation was atypical didn’t mean he couldn’t deal with it.

  “Later. First thing, though, will you wait by the elevators? Maybe we can get them in through the back way at the emergency exit, before anyone sees. I don’t want to create a panic.” If he could get officials inside using the back stairway, he could keep this quiet for now.

  “Yeah, yeah. Go.”

  Riley took a deep breath and went back into the party. Floriana caught his eye, and he tried to mime that it would be a few minutes. She glared but turned toward the wine station.

  That slight deception felt terrible. Riley didn’t have any idea how to break such bad news without causing a scene, and he was pretty sure none of the Gautiers would be happy about that, once they’d had time to think about it.

  He let himself back into the office area and made his way to Gabrielle’s office with all the enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows.

  Slumping into his chair, he tried desperately to think of anything but the scene beyond Gabrielle’s door. A sniffle and a tear caught him by surprise. Gabrielle wasn’t always the warmest woman, and she’d stepped on a lot of necks to get where she was, but he’d liked her. He was going to miss her.

  RILEY DIDN’T know how long he waited, but the troop of emergency personnel burst into the office area with an explosion of sound. Stamping feet, the jingle of keys, the rattle of a gurney, and the low murmur of somber voices.

  The woman in the lead, an EMT, made eye contact with him. “You’re the one who called in the report?”

  Riley nodded. “She’s… in the office.”

  For the next few minutes there was a whirlwind of activity and chatter inside Gabrielle’s office. A uniformed police officer stood next to Riley’s desk, but he didn’t know if that was because too many people were in Gabrielle’s office or if the cop was performing guard duty.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Floriana’s shriek cut through the cacophony, sharp and pointed. She was running as fast as she could in her stilettos, and hard on her heels were François, Bethany, and Cody. Riley knew it had been too much to hope for that the Gautiers would wait much longer before they came looking for Gabrielle. Riley stood and moved toward Floriana, trying desperately to think of the best way to explain.

  Like a tornado, Floriana whirled up into Riley’s face and grabbed his lapel. “What did you do?”

  “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m going to need you to step back.” The officer spoke with a tone of command at odds with his youthful appearance.

  Floriana didn’t even glance at him. “This doesn’t concern you. Riley, I want to know what the fuck you did, and then you’re fired. Or did my mother already do that?”

  The venom in her voice surprised Riley almost as much as the words, and he didn’t know how to respond, not even when she shook him hard enough that he heard fabric rip.

  This time the officer acted while he spoke, and separated them. “Ma’am, one more outburst like that and I’ll have to take you into the station.”

  Although François was also glaring daggers at Riley, he at least had the sense to pull his sister back. “Calm down, Floriana. We’re not going to find out anything by losing our cool.” François looked at the officer, while Bethany clung to his arm. “What’s going on?”

  “Please just remain calm and let them do their work.” The officer’s implacability helped to mute Floriana, but Riley couldn’t figure out why she’d attacked him. But the time he’d been dreading had come, and he had to step up.

  “I’m so sorry. François, Floriana… when I came to remind Gabrielle of the time, she was….” His throat constricted as though trying to prevent the words from escaping. “She had passed away. I’m so sorry.” His eyes filled again.

  “No. That’s not possible. She was just at the party.” Floriana wobbled, and the officer snagged a couple of nearby chairs, directing Floriana and Bethany to sit. The women took seats while François glared at Riley.

  However cold Riley found the siblings, witnessing their shock and grief was heartbreaking. He grabbed the box of tissues from his desk and offered it to them.

  “When can we see her?” François demanded in a haughty tone that didn’t faze the officer one bit.

  “As soon as possible, sir. For now, though, you can wait here, or if there’s another room where you’d like to wait…?”

  “François, what about the party? Should we tell the guests? Or send them home?” Bethany spoke up for the first time.

  Riley stood. “I can go tell them. I mean, not tell them. But maybe say there’s been a medical emergency and they should head home?”

  No expression crossed the cop’s face. “It would be better if you stayed here. Is there someone else who could take care of that?”

  That didn’t make sense either—sounded terribly official too. A cold sensation formed in the pit of his stomach. Was it a bad thing the cop didn’t want him to leave? Had he been wrong about Gabrielle being dead? Should he have tried to give her CPR? But he didn’t think that was enough to get him in trouble with the police.

  “Um. I could call Alisha, the receptionist,” he said for the cop’s benefit. “Everyone knows her.”

  The officer nodded. “My partner will take contact information for everyone before they leave.”

  After Riley finished his phone call, he hung up and turned back to the cop. “What now?”

  “Is there a conference room where you all can wait?”

  “Wait?” Floriana shrieked. “Wait for what? You to do your job?”

  The officer turned to look at her. Whatever she saw made her shut up.

  “Yes. Sure. Just down the hall.” Riley couldn’t be happier that they had conference rooms back here in addition to the fishbowl conference rooms that flanked the lobby. “The blue conference room.” There was an executive conference room closer, but it might be too small.

  François turned to his sister. “I’m sure we’ll be more comfortable waiting there.” His words were a command, if nothing else, and Floriana seemed willing to acquiesce. “Riley, bring some coffee in.”

  Riley nodded again, feeling like a damn bobblehead, but making coffee would give him something to do.

  François then gave Cody a very pointed look. Riley had almost forgotten he was there. He’d lost his cocky, arrogant air and had faded back beside a potted plant. Riley didn’t know how long he’d been dating Gabrielle, but he looked like he was about to throw up or burst into tears—but Gabrielle’s relationships were so volatile he wondered if he’d mistaken how genuine Floriana and Bethany’s tears were.

  “Cody, this is a family affair. We can handle it from here.” Riley didn’t know if he’d have the balls to contradict anything François said in that tone—he’d half expected to see a swirl of snow in the room.

  Cody stiffened his spine and he snarled. “I’m not going anywhere, you sanctimonious pile of shit.”

  “This is a family affair,” François repeated more forcefully. “You don’t belong here.”

  “I have every right to be here.”

  “You do not.”

  Floriana glared at Cody. “There’s nothing left for you, you gold-digging bottom-feeder.”

  “Everyone calm
down.” The cop appeared between Cody and François, blocking Riley’s view of Floriana, his presence convincing Cody to swallow whatever poisonous retort he’d been ready to launch. “We’re all going to head to the blue conference room and wait.” He gestured for François to lead, and Riley took that as permission to move into the kitchenette to make coffee.

  Unsure if the medical people would want some as well, Riley pulled out the largest carafe. The methodical routine of preparing coffee helped calm him, although he wondered if he should make decaf or regular. Probably everyone could use a jolt of caffeine. Tea might be better—but he didn’t want to get anywhere near Gabrielle’s body to get some.

  All too soon, the aroma of coffee filled the kitchenette. There would be cups in the conference room, so Riley poured coffee into a smaller insulated serving carafe. He gathered creamers, sweeteners, and the carafe onto a tray and left the kitchenette, only to be stopped by a tiny, wizened woman wearing a coroner’s windbreaker. She was accompanied by another uniformed cop. He didn’t think she’d arrived with the rest of emergency services, but she was short enough he might have missed her.

  “Who are you?” Considering they were all strangers, her brusque and impatient air seemed odd.

  “Riley. Riley Parker.”

  “Mm-hmm. I’m Dr. Nehru. Coroner. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m… I mean, I was Gabrielle’s assistant. I just made coffee for the family. There’s more ready in the kitchenette if any of you want some.” He carefully set the tray down on his desk.

  The cop thawed a bit, but the older woman flapped her hand in exasperation. “Were you the one who called 911?”

  “Oh. Yes. That was me.” And just like that, his temporary calm hung in tatters.

  “And did your boss have any allergies?”

  Riley shook his head. “Nothing she told me about. If she’d been allergic to any type of food, she would have said, because of the party we had catered.” And the few restaurant reservations he’d made for her.

  Dr. Nehru pursed her lips. “And that party was tonight? Here?”