Lanterns flicker around them, casting them in a radiant light. He’s tall and handsome with salt-and-pepper hair, in his late-fifties. Beautiful dark locks flow down the woman’s back, and she stands on tiptoe to whisper something into the man’s ear. He smiles and embraces her. They are oblivious to the possibility that anyone may be watching them.
“It’s been more than a year since Juliana came out here from California,” Marilyn says of my sister-in-law. “And she and Frank are still crazy-in-love, aren’t they?”
“It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen my brother so happy,” I answer. “She’s been the best thing that happened to him since Joanie died. How could I have ever doubted her?” I exhale slowly. “I mean, come on, she saved his life. And almost lost hers in the process.”
“Quite a brave lady,” Marilyn agrees. “And how’s Juliana’s daughter doing with Frank and his kids?”
“Francesca gets along great with all of them—Frank, Laura, Richard, and his wife Susie. Best of all, she’s a happy high school freshman.” I smile. “How are your two these days?”
“Katherine loves Georgetown, and Andrew’s working hard at U.V.A. They’ll both be home for Win’s birthday next month. And how about your kids?”
“Brooke’s still very happy with her job in New York, and she’s got a nice boyfriend, too.” I sip my wine. “Jessica’s back from Arizona and in her last year at Lafayette. She’s doing well. It’s hard to believe she’ll be out in the world soon.” My thoughts turn to my oldest, Tom, and a painful sadness washes over me like a flashflood. I quickly pull it together.
My friend watches me. She knows, and puts her arm around me. “It’s about that time, isn’t it?”
I shake my head. “It’s hard to believe another year has gone by. The girls and I will head down to Arlington to visit in a couple of weeks.” I think about our yearly trek to the cemetery on the anniversary of Tom’s death in Afghanistan.
“Is your ex meeting you there?”
“He came the first year…” I shrug.
“He hasn’t been back?”
“Not with us, anyway.”
Marilyn gives me a squeeze, and she and I resume watching Frank and Juliana, who continue speaking in low tones, probably sharing another special secret. Suddenly they turn as if they feel our eyes on them, and all four of us laugh.
Something catches Marilyn’s eye inside the house, and she stiffens slightly. “Time to be a good hostess.” She goes back by way of the dining room.
I greet several friends near the back doors of the foyer. I glance into the large hallway, which is now empty except for Marilyn’s husband, who still stands on the other end by the front door. Win talks to a woman with blue-black hair dressed elegantly in black pants, a black silk top, and a colorful shawl dramatically draped over one shoulder. I can only see her from behind, but her body language is tense. She holds her highball glass so tightly, I wonder if it will shatter in her hand.
I spot Marilyn listening to them from the other side of the dining room entry. Her cheery expression from moments ago has changed to anger.
The group I’m chatting with doesn’t seem to notice, but I can tell that the conversation by the front door ratchets up in intensity on both sides. Win looks livid and cuts off the woman. “This is not the time or place.”
“You think so? Fine.” She pitches the drink in his face. “We’re not finished.” She tosses her hair, sweeps past him, and leaves the house. I look around and realize I’m the only guest to witness this drama. It feels as if I’ve stepped into the middle of a time-worn soap opera.
Clenching her hands, Marilyn hurries to a tall window to discreetly watch the woman while Win rushes upstairs to change his drink-splattered shirt and jacket. As I walk into the dining room, I also watch through the windows as the mysterious figure gets into a white car and drives away.
“Are you okay?” Then I see the shattered expression on my friend’s face. “Marilyn, what can I do to help?” Almost in answer to my question, her expression changes to one of resolution, as if she’s just made a decision.
“We only have a moment before dinner starts, so I have to be quick.” Marilyn glances nervously toward the stairway. “Ronnie, I want to hire you.”
“Hire me?”
“Yes, to do your private eye-thing and get the goods on Win and that Alessandro witch. I need to know the truth.”
I’m speechless.
“So you’re hired. Come for dinner on Monday, and I’ll tell you all the dirty details…well, the ones I know.” She turns me back toward the foyer and gives me a gentle push. “Right now put on your party face, and let’s get this show on the road.”
I turn back and watch Marilyn remove a place setting and chair from the table where I’ll be sitting, so we’ll now be five instead of six. It’s too bad this woman—Katya Alessandro, according to the place card I’d read—left in such a hurry. I could have started my investigation right at my own table.
More importantly, without this woman right in her face, the evening is now nicer for Marilyn. She’s quietly singing to herself and her mood appears to have lifted.
Chapter Two
“Ronnie, why didn’t you join Club Nucleus?” Win Watson asks, now in a fresh shirt and different blazer. We stand near the open front door. “I gave you that wonderful introduction to the manager, and she would have processed the paperwork in a New York-minute.”
Laughing, I answer, “One club in New York is enough for me, and I can stay there when I don’t want to drive home late at night.”
“But that’s a women’s club. And Club Nucleus has some very powerful and, might I add, available men. It’s time for you to get back in the game.” He clinks my glass with his. “Marilyn thinks so, too.”
I sidestep his matchmaking efforts. “That’s so nice of you, but there’s plenty of time for all of that.”
Win nods at Marilyn, who stands by the pocket door signaling him to the dining room. Some of the guests are already inside taking their seats. He places our drinks on a nearby table. “It’s time to sit down.”
Before he can escort me in, a man I don’t know walks through the front door. He’s late, but he doesn’t rush. Instead, he’s cool and collected.
“Hey, Win. Sorry, man. That meeting went longer than I thought when I texted you.” His calm voice has a tone of authority, yet it’s still relaxed.
Before Win can respond, the man’s dark brown eyes shift to me. I meet his gaze, and it’s crazy—neither of us moves or breaks eye contact. Perhaps it’s really just a couple of seconds, but it feels much longer.
Win looks back and forth between us, and he smiles slowly. “Ronnie, darling, I don’t believe you know Jamie Gordon,” he purrs. “Jamie, this is Ronnie Lake. She’s on everybody’s A-list of fabulous women out here.”
I reach out to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jamie.”
Our eyes reconnect like magnets, and I take in a quick, small breath as he takes my hand. “It’s great to meet you, Ronnie.” The tone of his voice says you are the only one at this dinner that I want to know.
Win is grinning like a Cheshire cat, and before anything more can transpire between Jamie and me, he leads us into the dining room. “Okay, kids. Time for supper!”
~~~~~
“So Derek’s the handsome fellow sitting next to our hostess over there?” an older gentleman in a bow tie and light-weight tweed jacket asks the forty-something redhead sitting next to him.
“Mr. Johnson—” she says to the distinguished-looking man.
“Now Sandra Harper, your father and I may have been roommates in school, but don’t you think it’s time you call me Bill?” he asks with a chuckle. “So how did you meet?”
“Mr. Johnson—I mean, Bill—we met online two months ago.” Sandra looks at me for help across our table. Our company also includes the gay and fabulously fun Jeffrey Bennett, and the recently widowed Christian Gaines.
“You met where? Online?” Bill’s scru
nched expression is one of concern. “Sandra, have you had him checked out?”
“Bill,” I speak up. “Meeting online is perfectly acceptable these days. I’m sure Sandra has taken all the necessary precautions for her safety.” She looks at me like I’m her supportive big sister, and then I ask quietly, “You have, haven’t you?”
“Of course, Ronnie,” Sandra answers. “I made sure our first meeting was in a public place and that my family knew where it was. Plus, I took a photo of his license plate and texted it to my girlfriends…”
As Sandra continues her online dating saga, I gaze at the beautiful mural adorning the walls of the room. Soft lighting from the small glass candle holders scattered on each table not only gives the painted scene of the surrounding countryside an enchanted glimmer but also flatters the guests. Win and Marilyn’s dining room is magical, and it’s one of my favorite rooms in all of Willowbrook.
I glance around, surveying the guests. My brother, Frank, is sitting at Win’s table and Juliana is at Marilyn’s table, both lost in conversation with their dinner companions. The thought of their happy marriage does make me smile.
I look at the other people around Marilyn’s table, and immediately stop when those dark brown eyes lock on mine again. I look back at Jamie Gordon almost fiercely, and I feel a slight shiver up my back. Truth be told, I could swim in those eyes. I am unable to look away from his devastatingly handsome, weathered face topped by a thick windblown mop of graying blond hair. I feel as if his eyes are sending me a message, one that my body willingly absorbs. Finally, a little flustered, I shift in my chair and break eye contact.
Juliana glances at Jamie and then back at me with a slight smile and nod. She’s seen the entire exchange, and I’m a little embarrassed at being caught. I quickly refocus on Sandra.
“…so after talking until one in the morning about everything, and he was such a gentleman, we just dealt with the elephant in the room.” Sandra stops.
“Need I ask, what was the elephant in the room?” Christian, the widower, smiles.
“Sex?” Jeffrey throws in and rolls his eyes.
“Nooooo,” Sandra protests. “We un-Matched ourselves!”
“You, what?” I ask. “Is that like going steady or something?”
“No,” Sandra answers. “Derek and I talked about our online profiles on Match-dot-com that would continue pairing us with other people if we didn’t do something. And we both decided we didn’t want to stay active on Match or any other site…that we just wanted to focus on getting to know each other. It was a very sweet moment.”
“Wow, this is a new world,” I say.
“You should try it. You’ve been divorced longer than I have, Ronnie, and you’d be fabulous with some of the, um, older guys on Match-dot-com,” Sandra quips with her perky voice.
“Am I slightly out of it,” I ask the table, “that I prefer to meet eligible men the old-fashioned way, you know, through friends?”
“Not at all,” Bill Johnson pipes up. “And Jeanie and I will be on the look-out for some nice young man…well, not too young—”
“That’s okay, Bill,” I interrupt.
“So will I,” Christian says. “Be on the lookout, I mean.”
“Me, too,” Jeffrey says. “Maybe my parents know a nice available guy, someone kind of their age…”
~~~~~
We’ve finished dinner, and our group drifts into a large library filled with huge overstuffed furniture and a pool table off to one side.
“Oh, my, gosh, Ronnie.” Jeffrey’s eyes shoot skyward. “You want to be a private investigator?”
“Yes. I’ve been working part-time for a P.I. and taking courses.”
“At your age?” Bill fusses with his bow tie. “Isn’t it rather dangerous?”
“Not at all.” I smile and lead the way to a young lady setting up demitasse cups on a table in the corner. Jamie Gordon already has his coffee and looks at some of Win’s leather-bound volumes in a bookcase across the room.
“What happened to the TV business?” Christian asks.
“I got laid off last year, like a lot of other people.” The woman offers me a coffee, which I take. “It was the perfect time to do something new. Call this my next chapter.”
“Gosh, Ronnie, didn’t you work in TV for a long time?” Sandra gushes. “Good luck to you.”
“Just don’t ignore your next-chapter personal life,” Bill says. “Otherwise, you’ll end up alone. I’m going to get right on this with Jeanie. We’ll come up with some good candidates for you.”
Jeffrey laughs. “It’s much more fun to help you with your love life, Ronnie, instead of your next job!”
“That’s very kind of all of you.” I chuckle and make my exit from this uncomfortable conversation. As I walk over to one of the bookcases, I notice that Jamie’s been observing my little dinner group plan my personal life. He has an amused look on his face, and he joins me by the bookcase.
“You didn’t look too happy back there,” he says.
“Have you come to rescue me?” I ask.
He leans in toward my ear and says in a low voice, “I imagine it to be a rare occasion when you need rescuing, but I would happily volunteer.”
“How generous of you.” I hope he hears amusement in my voice.
“Generosity has nothing to do with it,” he responds. “I hear you’re quite ferocious in Aikido.”
“I might have taken a few classes here and there…why, what did you hear?”
“A few classes? I heard you have a black belt. I’ll be sure to give you a call the next time I need rescuing.” We both laugh.
“So, did you fall victim to Marilyn’s penchant for bringing her friends together at these things?” I hint in a way that I hope isn’t too obvious.
“You could say that,” he says, hiding his grin behind a sip of scotch.
“Same here…divorced and comfortable in this town means eligible and pathetic, at least if you’re a woman.”
“I don’t see anything pathetic here,” he answers, eyeing me in a way that no one has done in a long time. I laugh, hoping to distract him from the goose bumps spreading up my arms and the fact that I’m probably blushing a little.
Before this conversation can go any further, we’re interrupted by Win, Frank, and Juliana. As the men dive into sports chatter, Juliana gently tugs my arm and we find a cozy corner where we settle on a small sofa.
Jamie Gordon speaks to Win, who nods back toward the foyer. He says in a low voice, “Second door to the left of the stairs.” Jamie slips out of the room.
“Well, this could be the start of something exciting,” Juliana says in her quiet, silky voice. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at me.
“Whatever are you talking about?” I stir the milk in my cup.
“Don’t act all innocent with me, Ronnie Lake. Remember, I know you.” She chuckles and leans in to me. “I’ve been watching the way he looks at you.”
“Who?”
“Ronnie. Come on. Jamie Gordon, of course.”
“Funny, I’ve never met him or even seen him around.”
“Well, I’m surprised you haven’t heard the gossip floating around about him.” Juliana sips her coffee and doesn’t say a word.
“Okay, are you going to make me beg?” I ask. “What have you heard?”
“Well, he’s definitely available.” She giggles.
“Divorced?”
“Widowed.” She notes my surprise and quickly adds, “That’s what I heard, but I don’t know anything more. I guess he’s very private. Anyway, every divorcée around is trying to figure out a way to get her claws into him, and so far no one has succeeded—”
“Juliana! You are so anti-gossip, I would have never expected—”
“Hey, it’s just what I’ve heard.” She smiles sweetly.
“How about his work?” I ask. “What does he do?”
“Oh…” Juliana looks away. “A little of this, a little of that.”
“Pleas
e don’t hold back.” I smile and drink my coffee.
“I got the sense that maybe his work is tied in with philanthropy. And at dinner, when I said his work sounded like it must be fulfilling, he said not everyone would agree with me there. What do you think that was supposed to mean?”
“Who knows?” I sip my coffee. Still, I consider what he meant. Do people actually think his work is unfulfilling? Who would even care? Maybe Juliana used the wrong adjective and he didn’t bother to correct her?
I remember something else odd. “I think he’s done some asking around about me. He knew about my Aikido and made some crack about the next time he needs rescuing I could help? What do you think that means?”
Juliana’s eyes go wide, and she clutches my arm. “Really? Those aren’t things you exactly broadcast. I wonder how he knew…anyway, how about one step at a time? You know, like a first date?”
“We’ll see. I’m not a big fan of dating…” I glance around the room, curious as to where Jamie Gordon has gone. That’s a long bathroom break, I think to myself.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” Juliana says to me in a gentle teasing tone. “He’ll be back soon.”
An explosive sound outside makes us jump.
Chapter Three
Through an open window, there’s the crack of breaking branches. “Come on, Juliana. Something’s happening out there.” We rush to the back terrace ahead of other dinner guests who do the same. We glance around, but the terrace is empty.
A splintering sound and moaning come from above. We look up at a large dogwood tree not far from the terrace just in time to see a figure in black tumble through branches that jab at his injured body. One shoves him in the abdomen, and he shrieks like a wounded animal. “Holy shit,” he groans and passes out, coming to a stop two-thirds of the way down the tree.
“Over here,” I call to Win, who has rushed through the French doors. The limp figure hangs upside down in the dogwood.
My brother joins us as more groaning comes from the tree. “Sounds like he’s coming to,” Frank says, pulling out his phone and punching in 9-1-1.
Searching for Gatsby: A Ronnie Lake Murder Mystery (An Accidental Lady Detective, A Private Investigator Crime Series Book 3) Page 2
