by Sandi Scott
"How many investors do you have at this particular location?"
“I have several that are called first tier investors. They’ve invested less than ten thousand dollars each.”
“My, that is a good deal of money.”
“It is, but it takes several hundred thousand to make a brand-new restaurant a success. What a broker like me hopes is to obtain five to seven third tier investors. They are the investors who can afford over one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Wow, that’s very interesting!”
Calvin continued to make the investment sound very glamorous. The return on a successful restaurant could not just get an investor their money back but provide a continual source of income in the hundreds of thousands per year. Georgie was no accountant, nor did she have any idea what the chances were of this restaurant actually taking off, but she knew a long-shot bet when she heard it. This was beginning to sound like one.
"How many people do you have in the third tier of this location?"
“Right now, just one.”
“That was your associate you met with yesterday?”
“I’m really not at liberty to discuss my other investors,” Calvin shrugged.
"Of course," Georgie backpedaled. "Well, do you have some information that I could take with me to have my attorney look over?" Georgie lied.
“Yes, but I will tell you that I am meeting with two other people who are interested in this project, too. The opportunity might be gone by this afternoon.”
“Oh, Calvin. Please don’t worry about me. If I miss one chance, another will pop up, as you made very clear with your stories. So, let me ask you, ‘Would there be a chance for me to meet with any of the investors after the restaurant is up and running?’”
“Well, I suppose. The investors usually show up at the grand opening, but I’ve never had anyone that concerned with hobnobbing with the other investors.” Although Calvin wasn't rude, Georgie could tell that he wasn't used to anyone asking so much about the other investors. To her, it didn't seem that odd. Why wouldn't a person want to know who else thought the business was a good idea?
"I'm just a curious person," Georgie replied. "So, what can I take home with me to review before I make my final decision?"
“Okay, here you go, Georgie.” Calvin shuffled the files and pulled out a thick folder with colorful printouts and documents and half a dozen random pages that Georgie could barely read even when squinting.
“I will go over this with my attorney this afternoon, Calvin. That way I’ll have an answer for you as soon as possible. Fair enough?”
"I would appreciate that, Georgie." Calvin smiled. "I think you'll find everything in order and self-explanatory, but feel free to call me if you have any questions."
“I will do that. I am so grateful for your time.”
They parted ways. Calvin hopped in his sports car and waved as he pulled out of the parking lot. Georgie got in her car and flipped through the paperwork he had given her, but she didn’t see or comprehend any of the material. She was too distracted by the fact she didn’t get any real information on Taylor Bray and his investment. She was basically back at square one.
“I’ve got to try something else,” she said to Pablo. “Let me take a break on this. A change of scenery is as good as a rest.” At once, her phone rang. Suddenly, Calvin Bernard, Taylor, and Madame Bray flew out of her mind; Obby was calling.
Chapter 18
“I’m wondering how you feel about Indian food?” Obby asked.
“Indian food? I love pineapple pudding.”
“Well, if you want to eat dessert first, I’m good with that,” Obby laughed, “but I think it would be nice to have a meal to top it off.”
"Of course, Obby," Georgie replied.
“I thought we could have dinner at Gaylord’s. It’s a fantastic Indian restaurant and is within walking distance of the theater.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
They agreed to Obby picking up Georgie at a little before seven o'clock. With that settled, Georgie was able to look at the rest of her day objectively. There was work to be done.
“Yes, Georgie. How much is bail?” Aleta answered her phone on the second ring.
“What bail?” Georgie said. “I’m wondering if you could let Bodhi out and maybe have him hang out with you and Freckles?”
“Sure. You don’t plan on coming home?”
“Yes, I plan on coming home, but I’ve got some sleuthing to do.”
“Did you find out anything new today?”
“Not really. That’s why I think I need to get back to the theater before the show tonight.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go find someone to interview.”
“After half the staff saw Henry boot you out and threaten to call the police, do you really think that is a good idea?”
“Sure. Who doesn’t want to talk to me?”
“Someone who doesn’t want to lose their job. Maybe that would be a deterrent. I’m just sayin’.”
Georgie ignored Aleta’s warning.
"I saw Andrew and J.R. this morning," Aleta added. "They said they were going for a drive to Indiana Dunes for the day."
“It’s a little cold for that today.”
“That’s what I said, but they insisted it would be fine.”
“Youth—wasted on the young!” Georgie sighed.
“So true. Okay, let me know if you need anything from this end. Does Obby know what you’re doing?”
“Absolutely not. Besides, I’ll be doing this on my time, not on my date. I plan on having a nice time until we get to the theater.”
“Then you plan on having a terrible time?”
“No, I will just be a little on edge. Henry Dupre wasn’t happy with me.”
“Hopefully you’ll get a seat in the back of the room so Dupre won’t see you.”
“Yeah, hopefully. What are the chances of having a stage-side seat again, right?”
“What are you going to wear?” was Aleta’s next question.
Georgie gasped in dismay. "Oh, no, I didn't even give that a thought." Georgie wore her clothing like five-star generals wore their medals—never a haphazard decision but rather requiring time and patience to put things together so they looked as perfect as possible, even if she was just going to the grocery store.
“Do you want me to pick something out for you?” Aleta offered.
“Would you? Please, don’t make me look like a librarian.”
“I’m picking from your closet. That would be an impossibility.”
“Then, yes, please. I’m feeling like I’m in a purple mood. Maybe green.”
“Okay, I’ll keep all this in mind,” Aleta sighed, “and I’ll pick out something pretty for you. Don’t worry. Are you wearing a hat?”
“Of course. Am I wearing a hat? Yes. I want a hat with my outfit. Absolutely.”
“How silly of me,” Aleta teased. “When do you expect to be home?”
“Well, dinner is at seven. The show is at nine-thirtyish. So, I’ll probably be back around midnight.”
“I’ll be waiting up. Call me if you are going to be late.”
“Are you still worried?”
“No. I just think that it’s important to have Obby know that you’ve got an army of people waiting for you to come home. That’s all.”
“I’m not going to get into this again. Obby is a gentleman. I’m sure of it. Thank you for picking out an outfit for me. I’ll be home to get dressed around five.”
"That ought to give me enough time to sort through your closet," Aleta teased.
Georgie hung up with Aleta and quickly drove to the theater. “No need to hide and park around the corner today, Pablo,” she said to her Volkswagen. “Let’s just see what is happening out in the open.” She sat for twenty minutes before a single soul walked up to the building. Quickly, Georgie rolled down her window and waved.
“Dee!”
It w
as Dee Lite. She was the first woman Georgie spoke with when Madame Bray turned up dead on stage. The woman looked around. Spotting the waving hand from the orange VW Bug, she shielded her eyes from the sun and squinted. A smile filled her face before she started walking toward the car. “Georgie Kaye.” She waved back. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, honey. How are you doing?”
She stopped short of leaning into the car window. “I’m doing okay. Weren’t you in the theater the other day?”
“Was I?” Georgie squinted like she was really trying to remember where she was the other day.
“Yes, I think I remember seeing you there. In fact, I’m sure I remember Henry telling you that he didn’t want you around here anymore.”
“Oh, that. Yes, that was me.” Georgie cleared her throat. “I’m just following up on a hunch. Would you have a few minutes to spare?”
Dee quickly looked around. Deciding the coast was clear, she hurried over to the passenger side and climbed in. “I don’t know what you are up to, Ms. Kaye, but I’ll bet it is better than what is happening inside the theater. It’s literally driving me crazy, and I’m not the only one. A number of us are considering leaving the show. The stress is just too much.”
“What is going on?”
"Well, first of all, the police won't tell us anything. If they are close or not close at all to finding Madame Bray's killer. In my head, the killer could be the guy changing light bulbs in the dressing room or one of the guys in the choir who has a sweet smile or maybe even the boss, Mr. Dupre." Georgie started the car and pulled out onto the main road.
“Interesting that you bring up Mr. Dupre. I’m hoping you can tell me when Henry Dupre is on the stage. Would you happen to know that?”
“He’s on stage as the Master of Ceremonies, but he is also on the stage when he’s singing with the choir. Why are you asking?”
“Mr. Dupre is a suspect, but I’m just not sure he is the man the police are investigating.”
“Why would you willingly look into this?” Dee asked. “Are you one of those weirdos who get their thrills being around places where a murder has occurred? If so, that’s fine with me—different strokes for different folks, right? I’d just like to know what I’m dealing with here.”
“Good heavens, Dee.” Georgie wrinkled her nose. “No, I’m not one of those people. Gross. I’m just a concerned citizen who wants to see the person who committed this crime served up a big heaping plate of justice. That’s all.”
“Well, good luck.” Dee looked out the window. “The police interviewed all of us but that was the end of things. I hate to say it, but you’ve been snooping around more than anyone wearing a badge has been.”
“Well, let’s be honest, dear, the police are always overwhelmed. I’m positive they want to find every bad guy, but they just don’t have the resources. If it were as easy as we see on television, heck, we’d all be solving crimes. Right?” Georgie knew both sides of the coin. She knew how frustrating waiting for justice was for victims, but she also knew the struggles of the police. They had to wait and wait, too.
“I’m sure you’re right, Georgie. It’s just that it feels like there is a heavy, itchy wool blanket covering the stage every time I go on it. How much of that is a person supposed to take?”
“Well, who knows? Maybe fate will lend a hand.” Georgie nodded.
“Maybe, but I’m not that hopeful.”
“Do you miss Madame Bray?” Georgie asked.
“I do. She was a tough nut to crack, but I think that was only because she was so good at her job. She didn’t pull in a huge bankroll, but if you love your job, well, you know the saying—”
“—you’ll never work a day in your life.”
"Yeah." Dee nodded. "What gets me is that she was going to retire. She was just hours away from living out the rest of her days doing whatever she wanted. She told me she had saved up $100,000 and was planning on traveling. If you do it right, you can get far in the world on $100,000 dollars, really far."
“What about Mr. Bray. Did he have the wandering bug, too?”
Dee took a big breath. “I don’t think so. The only reason I say that is because he kept talking about buying property here. I’m not sure what kind. To be honest, I don’t know what the two of them saw in each other. Polar opposites if there ever were.”
“Really?” Georgie felt her chest tighten; she didn’t want to give herself away. If Dee knew she was just pumping her for information, she might slip and say something to the wrong person. Better play it cool. “That sometimes is the exact thing that makes a marriage work.” Recalling his behavior at the funeral home and the stories from the neighbors though, Georgie doubted their marriage had ever worked.
“If that is the case, I don’t think I’ll ever get married. It doesn’t look like fun to me!” Dee huffed.
Georgie thought about Stan. Their marriage was fun—until he wasn’t there. Therein lay the problem, as expected when one of the partners in a marriage walks out.
“Don’t let a couple of nuts jade you. A union can be wonderful if both of you promise to work at it. That’s the key, both of you have to work at it. You’re a pretty girl. You got a fella?”
“Sort of. Nothing serious.”
“Good. Take your time. You’re young and there are a lot of fish in the sea.”
Georgie’s eyes twinkled as she drove back to the theater to let Dee off. “I’ll see you tonight at the show.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for you, Georgie. Be careful.”
Georgie sped home to change her clothes and get ready for her date. The word still sounded foreign and scandalous in her head, but she was going to go through with it, with or without Stan and Aleta’s approval. She was a grown woman and wanted to talk about art and exotic places and rich experiences.
More importantly right now, she had a lead. The tiniest, most frail lead but a lead nonetheless—just the mention of $100,000 dollars. It was a long shot, but Georgie was used to those. After letting herself into her house, Georgie hurried to her bedroom to find the outfit Aleta had picked out for her. She squealed with excitement.
Chapter 19
When Georgie opened her door to Obby, she was feeling like a million dollars. “Hello," Georgie said happily.
"You look lovely. Here, I bought this for you."
Obby handed her a single yellow rose. “How thoughtful.” How long has it been since Stan brought you flowers? Oh, except after that arrest of the drug seller where I was in fear of dying! She shooed the thought away as if it were a pesky fly. Aleta had surprised her completely by digging in the very back of her closet and pulling out some little numbers she had completely forgotten.
A bright pink blouse and tan gaucho pants had been waiting on her bed when she got home and Georgie was sure Aleta had dug to the very bottom of her extensive costume jewelry collection to find several strings of purple beads. The best part of the entire ensemble was the hat. Georgie had completely forgotten about the beige Gatsby hat that had been bought at a consignment store some years earlier. Aleta, just when I think I know all your tricks you surprise me, Georgie thought as she sized herself up in front of her mirror before leaving the house.
At the restaurant, Obby tucked her hand through his arm and approached the hostess station. After identifying the reservation name, the woman smiled politely while picking up menus and waving for Obby and Georgie to follow her. Almost every table in the restaurant was filled. Georgie admired the beautiful Hindu paintings. They crossed from traditional images of Vishnu, Hindu women, and scenery to abstract, Picasso-like paintings of women, men, and animals. They were inspiring, in colors as bright as Georgie's wardrobe. The smell of spices throughout the restaurant made her mouth water and her nose tingle. Spicy Indian food was something Georgie welcomed every once in a while. Stan would never take you to a place like this.
Where that intrusive thought came from, Georgie didn’t know, but it echoed through her head just as she realized Obby
was waiting for her while smiling and smoothing down his tie nervously. Obby held her chair out and once Georgie was seated, he confessed to being a little more than nervous.
“I haven’t had much time over the past several years to get to know many people on a more intimate basis.”
Georgie coughed a little as she took a sip of water.
“What I mean is, I have too many business associates and not enough friends.” He scooted his chair closer to hers.
"Didn't you have any traveling companions along on your adventures overseas?" That question opened up the entire evening. Georgie found that Obby was not only very easy to talk with, but he was an excellent listener as well. When Georgie was busy putting her children through high school, Obby was the curator for a private gallery in Kiev. He would often travel to Poland on the weekends where he attended church.
When Obby was trying to get an original Manet painting through customs in Spain, Georgie had just sold her first pet portrait for a cheap $100. “I needed to build a portfolio,” she said in between mouthfuls of naan and lamb curry. “My early clients got away cheap.”
“How many artists get their start that way?” Obby asked. “Sometimes, it’s the only way. You have to practically give the work away and hope for the best.”
Georgie couldn't help but enjoy herself. She and Obby were kindred spirits. They certainly were cut from the same cloth, from their love of art to their favorite movies, as well as books they had read or hoped to eventually read when life slowed down.
“Well, are you ready to walk off this dinner and head to the theater?” Obby asked. The theater? Good grief. Georgie had almost completely forgotten about the cabaret!
