B004183M70 EBOK

by Rosemary Stevens

The large double doors to the elegant Grand Ballroom stood open, a mistake I corrected immediately.

  "Bebe!" a female voice called from behind the long buffet table, which was covered in creaseless white linen.

  "Maria!" I answered, and hugged her across the table. "How have you been?"

  The last time I'd seen the dark-haired girl, she'd been in a lot of trouble with a bad boyfriend. When Bradley and I had been working at Rip-City Records, I'd arranged for Maria to have extra waitressing work at the Legends to help her out.

  "I'm so happy I can see you in person and tell you how much you changed my life," Maria gushed.

  "I hardly did anything," I said.

  "I took your advice. I never saw that man I told you about again. The Legends likes my work so much, they give me plenty of hours. And I moved back in with my parents."

  "How is that going?"

  "Fine. They're wonderful people, Bebe. I was just man-crazy and wanted to get away. Now I see it's better for me to stay home a little longer." Her brown eyes lit from within. "I'm going to school in the fall."

  "That's fantastic!" I exclaimed.

  "I want to be a secretary, like you," Maria said. Then a sad look crossed her face. "I wanted to go to the best secretarial school, but they don't take people like me."

  "What do you mean . . . ?" I started; then it dawned on me. Maria meant they didn't take Puerto Ricans. "That's shameful, Maria."

  She smiled. "I'll show them by being the best student in my school."

  "Good for you! How's the buffet coming along?" I asked, observing other waitresses bringing out food. Large crystal chandeliers throughout the ballroom threw prisms of light on the silver platters.

  "This is quite a feast," Maria promised. "The chef has been a lunatic ordering his assistants around."

  Together we walked down the line, passing cold antipasto platters, smoked-salmon rolls with cream cheese, imported cheeses with crackers, all manner of cut fruit, miniature crab cakes, shrimp cocktail, and even steak tartare—the latter I thought was icky. The next long table contained the desserts. Cheesecake, chocolate cake, apple pie, an assortment of fancy cookies, and even a selection of ice cream. Women in brown-and-gold uniforms lined up behind the tables, ready to serve the guests.

  On the opposite side, behind a table holding a huge roast beef, a man in a chefs hat waited. Four free bars were next. I had suggested we serve only wine, but Bradley had scoffed at me. Another table contained soft drinks.

  Small round tables with the hotel's signature L embroidered in gold on brown cloth were scattered throughout the room, holding ashtrays.

  "This is decadent, Maria," I said, and laughed.

  "Don't worry, Bebe; you could stand to put on a few pounds."

  "Are you kidding? I'm drinking Tab now, watching my figure like a hawk— Oh, Maria, I see the security guards coming in that back door. I need to speak to them."

  "Anything you need me to watch out for? I think you're more than a secretary," Maria said, giving me a knowing look.

  I laughed. "Not really, but ... I don't know if you remember my boss, Bradley Williams. He's tall and lean, with dirty-blond hair and—"

  Maria held up a hand. "Who could forget a man who makes every woman's knees weak?"

  We giggled.

  "Is he yours yet?" Maria asked.

  I stopped giggling. "No. I'm still working on it. Anyway, he's in trouble for something he didn't do. There may be people here who want to hurt him. If you could keep an eye on him—"

  "Oh, keeping an eye on that one would be a pleasure."

  "Thanks. See you later. Oh, can I leave my hat with you? Just slip it under the table, okay?"

  "Sure."

  I glanced at my watch. Shocked to see it was almost one, I turned in my tracks and scrambled across the ballroom. I threw open the doors and gasped.

  "Miss Bennett, I wondered how long you would keep me locked out," Bradley said. Looking as sleek as an ice cube in a pitcher of dry martinis, he entered the room. "Any problems?"

  "That's why I came early and kept the doors shut. I didn't want to allow people inside until I was satisfied the Legends had followed my instructions."

  "Good work, kid," he said, then went directly to the bar.

  Curious, I edged closer. Bradley gave the bartender instructions for a martini. I held back a smile. Was he a James Bond fan like me? If he told the bartender he wanted his martini shaken, not stirred . . . The bartender shook the stainless-steel pitcher. I giggled. Well, James Bond Bradley wasn't, no matter the drink, since he was leaving the darn murder investigation to Mr. Pickering! Though Bradley was much more handsome than James Bond.

  I blew out a breath of air and strode over to the security guards. I introduced myself, told them what I wanted, and discreetly pointed out Bradley. We had only a few seconds, as people began streaming inside.

  I sprinted back across the room so that I could talk to Jeff Granford before he got drunk. I had a feeling everyone was going to be sloshed before long.

  I saw Jeff and followed him to the bar, leaning up against it casually. "I'll take a whiskey, straight," Jeff told the bartender.

  While waiting for the drink, he looked to his right, and then to his left, and bingo, there I was.

  "Oh, is that you, Mr. Granford?" I asked innocently.

  He gave me the once-over. "Yeah, it's me."

  I gazed into his reddened eyes and said, "The way you talked about Suzie at the memorial positively made my eyes fill with tears." I had a more pronounced Southern accent when I was playing a role.

  "Call me Jeff," he said, accepting his drink and downing half of it in one swallow.

  His huge body made me feel like an elf beside him. And if he drank like that all the time, Scott Roberts had probably saved Suzie from a rough life. Jeffs face was more than rugged; he looked like a boxer. There was something about his nose. Maybe it had been broken.

  "Thank you, Jeff. Suzie and I didn't know each other," I lied, fingers crossed behind my back, "but I thought she was a beautiful girl. Your heart must have been broken when she left Omaha."

  Jeff finished his drink and flashed the empty glass at the bartender for a refill. He waited until he received it, took a gulp, and looked into the liquid, as if seeing something there other than whiskey. "I followed her to New York immediately. I've been here all along trying to convince her to come home with me, have a houseful of our babies. She said she would, that I just had to wait."

  "When was she planning to go back to Omaha?" I asked softly so as not to break his concentration.

  "We didn't know for sure. Suz told me that models havea shelf life like food. When she couldn't get work anymore, we'd have plenty of money to take back with us to buy a big house."

  Suzie? Leave New York? Ha! Only for London or Paris. "Did you see each other often?"

  His meaty face turned red. "Whenever she could get away from that son of a bitch Scott Roberts. He rented a room to her. I wanted her to stay with me, but Suz said it would be better for her career if we kept our relationship a secret. When she got her own place, we were together whenever she didn't have work or business dinners. Suz worked so hard; she never had more than an afternoon or evening here or there to spend with me."

  "You have those times to remember," I said, thinking back to what Gloria had told me about Suzie keeping an old boyfriend around for nostalgia's sake. Looking at the man in front of me, I couldn't imagine Suzie doing anything for "nostalgia." Jeff was more like bad news that wouldn't go away. Maybe he was one man Suzie couldn't control.

  "I can't believe we won't have our family now." He gulped the rest of his second drink, turned from the bar, and burst into tears. My purse was jammed with tissues for this reception. I pulled one out and handed it to him. Although he accepted it, great, wrenching sobs came from the big man.

  "Jeff? Jeff, dear," said an attractive woman with pretty gray hair and fine features. A man accompanied her, one I recognized from the church service. The Wexfords.
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  Jeff turned at the sound of her voice and enveloped her in his arms. "Mom, Dad, I did everything I could, and I failed."

  I walked slowly away. I didn't want them to know who I was, lest they start in about Bradley. Jeff had never asked my name either. Good. He frightened me, with his ham-sized hands, his anger, his sobs, and his delusions. Did he really believe that Scott Roberts "rented a room" to Suzie?

  Obviously, until the day Suzie died, Jeff was convinced that he would marry her. He even called her parents "Mom" and "Dad." Was it possible that Suzie had accepted Pierre's marriage proposal? That she told Jeff she was marrying someone else? I could imagine her leading him along, saying that it was for her career, and that her heart belonged to him.

  But what if he didn't like the scheme? What if Jeff went to her apartment that night—she would have let him in—and he found her—I squeezed my eyes shut for a second—in whatever state she was in that told him she'd been with a ... a lover?

  Yes, I could easily picture him losing all control and strangling her.

  "Bebe?"

  "Oh, Gloria. I'm sorry; I was lost in thought and didn't see you." I glanced around and noted the ballroom was at capacity.

  "That's okay," she said coldly. "I saw you talkin' to Jeff. He's a dope," she proclaimed. "Believed every lie Suzie fed him. Have you seen Pierre?"

  "No, not yet. What does Jeff do for a living?"

  Gloria didn't meet my gaze. She had a plate of food in her hands, and popped a salmon roll in her mouth. Speaking around it, she said, "Teaches teenagers how to box down in the Bowery."

  "He looks like he's taken a few hits to the face," I said.

  "Bet on it. One of Suzie's secrets, finally out in the open after Jeffs performance at the memorial."

  "Didn't you tell me that the morning you did Suzie's makeup for the Mustang display, she bragged that she'd refused Pierre's marriage proposal?"

  "What she told me," Gloria answered, her gaze finally meeting mine.

  "I see. I'm glad you came to the memorial, Gloria."

  She shrugged. "Business. Lots of Suzie's clients were there. Now they're here, so I've got to hang loose with the execs. I'll see ya."

  "Wait! Gloria, have you seen Dirk Snellings, the old boss at Ryan? Is he here?"

  "Yeah, I saw him a few minutes ago." She craned her neck. "You can't miss him. Very tall, dark hair, kinda a classic American look—there he is. He's the one with the red rose in his lapel over by the steak tartare."

  Gloria edged away before I could say thank you. It seemed she didn't want to talk to me except for a brief chat now and then.

  Why?

  I couldn't think about it now. I needed to question Snellings. The steak tartare was at the end of a long buffet table, before the desserts.

  Boldly, I walked back to the bar and ordered like a female James Bond. "I'll have a martini, shaken, not stirred."

  The bartender looked at me and snorted. "I guess you're of age. Nobody at this function is underage."

  The nerve! I accepted my drink and looked down my nose at him before walking away. Immediately some of the liquid spilled over the edge onto the gold carpet. I held the martini glass slightly away from me, then bent and took a gulp. Wow! That was some wicked drink, burning its way down my throat and making my eyes water. I guess I shouldn't have taken such a big swallow.

  I elbowed and squeezed my way through people, more of the martini sloshing over the top of the glass, until I reached Dirk Snellings. Mr. Snellings, husband, cheater, and liar, was good-looking in a choirboy way. How ironic.

  "Mr. Snellings?"

  He turned and looked me over. "Hey, chickie, do I know you?"

  I took a quick peek at his left hand and noticed he wasn't wearing his wedding ring, but an indentation on the appropriate finger gave his game away. Jerk!

  I smiled. "We haven't been introduced. You might say I know you by reputation."

  He popped some of that raw steak into his mouth. I was so grossed out, I took another sip of my martini.

  "By reputation, you say. Now, how's that?" he asked, taking a sip of his amber-colored drink.

  "I'm Bebe Bennett, the new secretary at Ryan."

  Again the once-over, then, "You looking to be a model? Because, chickie, I think I could set you up."

  "No, she's not looking to be a model; are you, Miss Bennett?" Bradley said, nearly making me fall into Dirk Snellings's arms when he bumped my back before strolling to my side.

  I gave Bradley a blinding smile. "Of course not, Mr. Williams. You know I enjoy my job as your executive secretary."

  "And you were just bringing me this martini," he said, taking the glass—complete with pink-lip-gloss stain—right out of my hand, darn him.

  "Exactly! Listen, you two should know each other," I said cheerfully. "Mr. Williams, this is Mr. Snellings, the former head of Ryan."

  The men shook hands.

  If I had judged Snellings correctly, nature would take its course. Bradley had unknowingly handed me an opportunity, and what was about to happen was for his own good.

  Right on cue, Mr. Snellings broke into a laugh. He said to Bradley, "Funny we should meet here, Williams. How'd you like Suzie chickie? She was the best lay—"

  Mr. Snellings stopped and looked at me. "I'm not offending you, am I, Bebe?"

  "Me? Not in the least, Dirk," I said, taking the liberty of using his first name. "I've been around the block." I smiled at Bradley and snatched the martini glass back. "Just a sip," I told him in my best Marilyn Monroe voice.

  Bradley pretended to drop his napkin. On his way down to retrieve it, he muttered for my ears, "Only blocks you've been around, kid, are wooden with the ABCs printed on them."

  I kinda kicked him. Discreetly. He took the martini back.

  I moved closer to Dirk. "What a lovely red rose you're wearing."

  Dirk gave a hearty laugh. "I wore it in honor of our Suzie. Always demanded red roses the whole two years she was mine. She do that to you, Williams?"

  Oh, how this needed to be done, even though Bradley might experience pain. Maybe the scales would drop from his eyes and he'd get over Suzie once and for all. I shifted my gaze to him.

  Bradley looked at Dirk intently. "Yes, she always asked for red roses."

  Dirk gobbled another bit of steak tartare from his plate, and laughed around it. "I knew it. Suzie never changed. Slept with whoever could advance her career. Lived life to the limit. Hell, I'm still paying off Tiffany's!"

  Bradley drank my martini in one shot. He appeared to be his normal, cool self, but I could see his full lips tighten, indicating anger. I hoped he was angry at Suzie, not Dirk.

  "So, Dirk, did she drop you like a hot potato when Mr. Williams took over the agency?" I asked, flipping one side of my hair back and giving Dirk a big grin, Darlene style.

  "She sure did, Bebe. I never saw her again once it was announced that you were the new man, Williams."

  "Is that so?" Bradley said in a neutral tone.

  "Yeah, but, hey, no hard feelings. I'll bet she got to know you real well the very first day you were on the job. But, buddy, I had her for two years. True, I had to share her with Scott, then Pierre, but hell, I didn't mind." He leaned closer to Bradley and me. "I've been married the whole time, and I've got a cute chickie at my new job in advertising. Christ, it's not like Suzie ever said she loved me."

  Dirk straightened and glanced around. Bored with the conversation and looking for greener pastures, I thought.

  Quickly, I said, "Lola is here."

  Dirk pointed at Bradley with a cracker. "Lola was wild in the sack, but when Suzie came along, I only saw Lola every once in a while. Hey, buddy, tell it like it is, or was. Suzie didn't say she loved you, did she? Kinda hurt a guy's pride if she did."

  "No, she didn't," Bradley said in that same calm tone.

  "Now that you've mentioned Lola, Bebe," Dirk said, "I think I'll go say hello. Nice meeting you both. Here's my card, Bebe, if you ever want to get in touch."
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br />   He winked at me, then started to walk away. I followed him a few paces, then reached out my right hand and grabbed him by the sleeve. "Dirk, have you got any idea who might have killed Suzie?"'

  Suddenly I felt my left hand, holding Dirk's card, being pulled so hard my arm stretched out.

  Dirk glanced over his shoulder at me and said, "Not a clue. Suzie not only had lots of lovers; she also had lots of enemies."

  I couldn't thank him, because he kept going through the crowd, and finally the pain in my left arm caused me to surrender to Bradley.

  Tripping in my pumps, I managed to right myself. He dropped my arm, taking Dirk's card from my hand. His well-manicured fingers tore the card into tiny pieces and let them fall to the floor.

  Bradley's fierce gaze burned holes in my eyes. "Dammit, what kind of game are you playing, Miss Bennett? Because you're in way over your head."

  "I don't know what you mean," I said, wishing that someone, anyone, would appear wanting a conversation. Bradley's body was practically touching me, since we were near the hordes of people waiting to get food.

  Bradley cocked his head, his gaze never faltering. "Yes, you do know what I mean. Don't you he to me too."

  Oh, dear God. "How dare you suggest that I would lie to you the way Suzie did!" I may have told him a fib here and there, but that wasn't the same.

  "Because that's what women do. Lie. Which is why I now regret spending time with Suzie. Once with any woman is quite enough for me."

  "Don't you think that depends on the woman?"

  "I haven't met one yet who's been different."

  Was I included in that statement? My chin trembled, and I felt that painful burning behind my eyes. I would not cry.

  Bradley said, "Did you set me up for that meeting with Snellings?"

  "How could I do that? I was talking to the man who was your predecessor, and you walked up to us." I had taken full advantage of the situation, though, knowing it would hurt Bradley.

  He looked furious. "That's because I saw you with a martini in your hand, and I didn't want to have to carry you out to a cab."

  "You needn't worry about me!"

  "No? Good. I suppose you know what kind of impression you made with that ass. Is that what you want? To be the type of woman Suzie was?"