She rose and faced me. "You. Pierre will be here any minute, if that's what you're wondering."
"Actually, what I'm wondering is why you told Detective Finelli that I killed Suzie Wexford."
We stared at each other. I had no intention of backing down.
"You make me sick," Gloria spat. "When you couldn't get anywhere with your boss, you decided Pierre was the better catch."
"Pierre is not the issue here. Answer my question: Why did you lie to Finelli?"
"Look at you, dressed like that. You're no better than Lola or Suzie. I saw you allow Lola to drink on the plane so that Pierre would have to use you to model that skimpy black bikini. You and Pierre were real cozy on that beach in Saint Thomas."
Why was Gloria going on about Pierre? "Where were you on the night Suzie was murdered?"
"Me! I was on a date with a medical intern. Finelli has checked out my alibi. What's yours? You told me you hated Suzie. You wanted her dead. I think you killed her!"
"How could you—"
"Enough!" yelled Pierre.
The Frenchman stood at the edge of the set. He'd heard everything, as had Bradley, Drew, and Debbie Ann.
Pierre crossed to Gloria. "How dare you speak that way of Bebe?"
Gloria's voice rose. "Go ahead. Take your new girlfriend's side. You always pick the wrong girl! It should have been me all this time, but you never noticed how much I love you. How it's been me who's stuck with you all these years. But you couldn't love me. All you saw was that I'm chubby and don't have a pretty enough face."
"You foolish girl. You'll do Debbie Ann's makeup because I won't have Bebe's shoot ruined, but after this, you will work for me no more," Pierre announced dramatically.
Gloria narrowed her eyes at him. "That's fine with me. I don't need you or want you, Pierre. You have a love-hate relationship with all your women. Just look at your history: Kiki threw herself off a building rather than be with you. Lola drove herself to drink. Suzie's dead—"
Pierre slapped Gloria.
Bradley stepped forward as if to intervene, but I shook my head at him.
"Pierre," I said, "I started all this by confronting Gloria. Please apologize to Gloria for hitting her."
"No. It is Gloria who must apologize to us," Pierre said, his face red.
Gloria said, "I didn't say anything that wasn't true. I'm leaving. Sorry, Debbie Ann."
Debbie Ann hovered in the corner, twisting her apron, for once not relishing this glimpse into personal matters.
Bradley spoke. "Gloria, if you leave without doing Debbie Ann's makeup, you will not work for Ryan Modeling again. Do you understand? Debbie Ann needs you; the agency needs you to fulfill your obligation."
Debbie Ann found her voice. "Please stay, Gloria. All this unpleasantness has made me quite upset. I don't think I could bear a stranger doing my face."
"I'll do it for you, Debbie Ann," Gloria finally agreed.
I rubbed Pierre's arm and looked into his eyes. "Please, Pierre, we need your talent. You want to make the folks at Precision Knives happy, don't you? A great ad photographed by the best in the business."
As quickly as his temper had flared, Pierre relaxed under my soothing words.
"On one condition, Bebe," he said.
"What?"
"That you will have dinner with me tonight at Sardi's."
Gloria laughed. "One of Suzie's two favorite restaurants."
"That would be lovely, Pierre," I said quickly before an argument could flare again. While I didn't like leading Pierre on, I needed to spend time with him. He and Jeff Granford were the only suspects left.
"Can we get to work here, everyone?" Bradley snapped.
Pierre glared his disgust at Bradley.
"Pierre, what time will you pick me up?" I asked, hoping to divert him.
"At seven thirty, cherie."
"I'll be ready," I said, then gave him my address, which he wrote on the back of one of his business cards.
"You're not going back to your desk now, are you? Someone needs to oversee the shoot," he said, as if Bradley weren't a few feet away.
"I'll stay," I told him, causing Bradley to head for the elevator.
When the shoot was finished, successfully in my opinion, I returned to my desk.
The first thing I saw was Bradley's closed door.
"How'd it go, Danielle?" I asked.
"Fine. I typed some letters for you."
"You're swell. I'm calling your supervisor right now to praise your hard work."
"Thanks, Bebe. Mr. Williams sure was mad when he came back downstairs."
"Really?" I asked.
"Uh-huh. He slammed his door so hard the coffee pot rattled."
"Men," I said, and rolled my eyes. Danielle chuckled and returned to the typing pool.
Was Bradley mad at me? Jealous about the male attention I'd received today? Had he heard Gloria's comment about me posing in the black bikini?
I dialed Mrs. Seeds's extension and explained in detail what a valuable employee Danielle was to the agency. Mrs. Seeds listened and we hung up on excellent terms.
Then I dialed Detective Finelli's number.
"Finelli."
"I'm glad I caught you, Detective."
"Miss Bennett. It's gotten so I recognize your voice."
"That's nice, isn't it?" I proceeded to explain almost everything that had happened with Lola, Scott, and Gloria. He acknowledged me with a grunt here and there.
"Interesting, Miss Bennett. Who's at the top of your suspect list now?"
"I'll tell you if you tell me if there was a diamond engagement ring found in Suzie Wexford's apartment," I bargained.
A sigh came from the other end of the line. "Lots of jewelry, no diamond ring."
A shiver went through me. Pierre had lied when he said that Suzie had accepted his ring.
"Miss Bennett?"
"Pierre Benoit and Jeff Granford are my main suspects. Pierre has a temper, is known for having unstable relationships with women, and he lied about being engaged to Suzie. Assuming he was jealous enough over Suzie's dating Mr. Williams, he could have gone to her apartment and murdered her." The more I talked about it, the more Pierre seemed like the killer.
"Possibly."
"Then there's Jeff Granford. We've already discussed his motives: jealousy, his feeling of ownership over Suzie. I haven't had time yet to go down to his apartment and question him. I guess I'll do it tomorrow."
Finelli's voice grew stern. "I wouldn't advise you to go near Granford. I mean it, Miss Bennett."
"Why don't you take these men in for questioning?" I asked, desperation in my voice.
"I've told you, the department is working the case."
"How? You arrested Mr. Williams. That's all I've seen you do. And now I'm going out tonight on a dinner date with Pierre, who could be a killer."
"I'd advise against that."
"Yet you won't lock Pierre and Granford up like you did Mr. Williams," I argued.
"Put on your party dress, Miss Bennett," Finelli said before hanging up on me.
Party dress it was then.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Don't argue with me. You're wearing it," Darlene said.
We were in my room in front of the full-length mirror. I had on a pale pink silk shantung A-line dress, sleeveless with a scooped neck. The top of the dress had clusters of silver beading ending with pink beads at the Empire waistline.
"Darlene, I appreciate your offer to let me borrow your diamond necklace," I began, practically drooling over the expensive, glittering stones. "But—"
"But nothing. You're going to Sardi's! You must wear diamonds," Darlene insisted, moving my hair to one side and clasping the necklace around my throat.
I looked in the mirror and gasped. "Oh, my."
"See, Marilyn Monroe was right. Diamonds are a girl's best friend."
"What if someone tries to rob me and take the necklace? And I don't have a wrap that goes with this dress."
"Who's probably the killer—"
"And Stu had the necklace insured for me."
I blew air into my bangs. "Thank heavens. I feel like a princess in these."
"Cole was good for something," she said.
We laughed and I said, "That's naughty," which made us laugh harder.
The buzzer sounded.
Darlene grinned. "Right on time. Order the filet mignon and get Pierre's confession. Good luck, honey."
I took a deep breath. "I have to clear Bradley, Darlene, I just have to. But I feel bad misleading Pierre this way. He's truly interested in me—"
"Sshh. Don't get tears in your eyes now. You'll do your best. Pierre's a big boy. He'll get over any feelings he has for you. Have you done anything to lead him on? What if he really is the killer, Bebe?"
"No, I haven't encouraged his personal attentions. It's been business and Bradley. That's how I'm justifying this date with Pierre."
"Good girl. If you can't get him to confess, we'll simply put him in one of my girdles and hold him hostage until he breaks," Darlene said, and grinned.
"Good idea!"
Downstairs, Pierre kissed both my cheeks. "I have never seen you more beautiful, my cherie. You were born to wear diamonds." Then he bent and whispered in my ear, "And I want to be the one to give them to you."
"Pierre, you're so kind," I said, figuring I'd have to update the "Confessions" section of my notebook for lying.
"I could give you everything you ever dreamed of, Bebe," he said, opening the cab door.
Maybe he could, but not in the way he thought. If Pierre confessed to killing Suzie, Bradley would not be railroaded into jail. Bradley's freedom, the clearing of his name—that was what I wanted more than anything.
Pierre had left his beret at home. I caught myself staring at his thin brown hair. No wonder he covered it up. He wore a black suit, black shirt, and a black tie.
We chatted about Saint Thomas on the cab ride over to Sardi's.
"Your photos are magnificent, Bebe. They bring out your irresistible combination of innocence and sensuality. The Durden people will be happily surprised-as I have been, to find someone so soon after Suzie's death."
"I hope the Durden people are happy." Bradley, though, would have a fit.
"I have arranged for a messenger tomorrow to bring the photos to whoever is in charge now at Ryan," Pierre informed me.
Oh, boy. Maybe I could intercept them, send them straight to the Durden people myself without Bradley ever seeing me in that black bikini.
Excitement took over when the cab pulled in front of the restaurant. A big green neon sign proclaimed SARDI'S, and in smaller letters, restaurant, and cocktails.
Inside I was dazzled by the gleaming wood, the famous celebrity caricatures, and the hearty greeting Pierre received by the maitre d' who guided us to an elegant table for two. People nodded at Pierre and he smiled back, but he stopped for no one.
Once seated, I became conscious of people staring at me. Did they think I was Pierre's new girlfriend? Pierre certainly thought so.
After consulting at great length with the waiter, who brought the wine list, Pierre decided on a French champagne. I didn't even want to think about what it cost.
Following Darlene's suggestion, I ordered the filet mignon from my menu, which did not list prices. I loved being a woman dining in an expensive restaurant, not worrying about prices!
Pierre chose cannelloni au gratin, Sardi's specialty, which turned out to be a French crepe with sherry sauce.
We chatted about New York. I couldn't hide how much I loved the city, all the places I had yet to see, and Pierre approved. "Virginia bored you. I can understand."
I felt decadent in Darlene's diamonds, drinking the most delicious champagne and eating the best food I'd ever tasted. In order to get Pierre's confession, I allowed myself to become a little tipsy, but not so much that I didn't feel in control.
Just about to launch into my questioning, I saw something that made my eyes widen. Bradley and model Evelyn Miller were being seated at a table across the aisle and two up from Pierre and me. Bradley, in a white dinner jacket that almost made me faint, sat facing me, though he didn't look my way. I fixed my gaze at the napkin in my lap, not sure whether to smile or go over and punch him. He had overheard my plans to dine here with Pierre and had come to keep an eye on me. Didn't he think I could take care of myself?
Bradley's entrance did not go unnoted by Pierre.
"Mon dieu," he sneered. "Cannot I go anywhere without that man reminding me of Suzie's murder? We shall ignore him and take pleasure in this time together."
I was going to have to play along with him. "Speaking of Suzie, what was Gloria talking about today when she said you had a love-hate relationship with your girlfriends, Pierre?" I asked innocently, running my tongue across my upper lip.
Bradley opened his napkin with a loud snap.
Pierre reached his left arm across the table and took my free hand. "I'm a passionate man, cherie. You know that."
I kept my hand in his. "But I don't know how bad your temper can be. I'm afraid."
"How can I reassure you? I will give you an example of my feelings." Pierre scowled. "I could not like what Louis said about kissing you. Is it true?"
"It was nothing. He merely brushed my lips."
"I shall never photograph him again," Pierre announced.
As angry as I was at Louis for trying to use me to get ahead at Ryan, I said, "Don't do that to him, Pierre. I'm not going out with him again."
Pierre swallowed champagne, his thumb moving over the back of my hand.
I slanted a glance at Bradley. He held a martini, the sight of which brought back the last time I'd seen him drink one—in his office—and I felt myself blush.
"Ah, there is that pretty color in your face, Bebe. Do not return to Ryan. Come to me," Pierre said slowly and seductively, not even bothering to mention a job.
Daddy would have beaten Pierre to a pulp if he'd heard him.
Here we go. "Pierre," I said, instilling my voice with confusion, "how can I? I must know a man's history with women before I can make a commitment. Please try to understand. I've had a sheltered upbringing."
A gleam entered his eye. "And you have not dated much, nor had a lover?"
I gasped. "A lover? Certainly not."
Almost, though.
His fervor grew; I could see it shining in his eyes. "What do you want to know about me, cherie? Did you read my biography at the gallery showing? It was there I first noticed you."
Liar. He'd had eyes only for Suzie and the other celebrities. "Yes, I read it. I'm impressed with your ambition, and how you've overcome horrible odds," I replied. That much was true. "Tell me, at Debbie Ann's shoot today, Lola mentioned someone named Kiki."
I saw Evelyn bang her fist on the table to get Bradley's attention.
Our waiter chose that moment to clear our plates and hand us the dessert menu.
"Order the New York cheesecake, Bebe," Pierre suggested.
"I couldn't eat it, but thank you."
"If only one bite crosses your pink lips, I shall take great delight in watching you savor the richness," Pierre cajoled.
"Very well," I replied. When the waiter left, I said, "We were talking about Kiki."
Pierre released my hand and sat back in his chair.
"How can I explain Kiki? She was eighteen, wild, and lived for cocaine and parties."
"Cocaine? Oh, dear," I sympathized, trying to hide my shock.
Pierre looked away. "Part French, part Italian, she was like no one else. Her beauty lay in the wildness, the free spirit that shone through the camera lens like a mermaid luring ships to shore."
High drama there, I thought. "Did you argue?"
"Of course. I wanted her off drugs, but I couldn't tame her. She broke my heart when she took cocaine and went nightclubbing, not coming home for days. Then one evening I returned late from a
dinner with friends. There were policemen, an ambulance—" He broke off, tears in his eyes.
"Kiki was dead?"
He nodded, pulling his handkerchief out of his suit coat pocket and wiping his face. "She had fallen off the roof of our building. I know people say she killed herself. It's not true, Bebe. Kiki had pots and pots of flowers on the roof. We used to go up there and talk, look at the stars. I believe she went to the roof to wait for me and fell. The coroner told me she had cocaine in her system."
"What a tragic accident," I said, thinking Kiki and Pierre might have had an argument, and he pushed her. "What about Lola?"
Pierre leaned closer to the table as the waiter brought our cheesecake and coffee.
Picking up his dessert fork, Pierre waved it in the air. "That one. You know her. Who could get along with that drunk? She used me. Our relationship was short, a year perhaps. Then Suzie came into my life."
While Pierre savored another bite of cheesecake, I dared a glance at Bradley. He had another martini in his hand. Evelyn didn't appear to be happy. Although I could make out only her profile, she spoke angrily to him, while Bradley was the picture of cool.
I took a bite of cheesecake, which was delicious. I licked my lips, then noticed both Pierre and Bradley staring at me. I marshaled my forces and went in for the attack. I faced Pierre. "I can understand why your association with Suzie was one of love-hate. She was a beautiful woman, but cared for no one."
Pierre set his fork down. "What do you mean? Suzie told me she loved me. She brought out more passion in me than has any other woman."
"I'm sure Suzie loved you. In her way. But over time, a man of your intelligence, your sensitivity, must have realized she was only using you, like Lola had."
Tiny beads of perspiration broke out on Pierre's forehead.
"Suzie wasn't loyal even before she met Mr. Williams. Is loyalty something you don't require in a relationship, Pierre?"
"Of course I demand loyalty," he responded.
I nodded. "Then I can understand why Gloria said you had a love-hate relationship with Suzie. It was an open secret that she still saw Scott Roberts, her old photographer."
Pierre lifted the almost empty bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, poured the remainder into his glass, and drank it down.
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