“Well, not exactly. But they did start scuffling, I guess. He said he drove off in a hurry.”
“I’ll say. Didn’t he barely miss you?” Wes asked. “What are these people thinking?”
“Yes, but because she was Vivian Duncan, she manufactured a whole song and dance about car-jackers. How do you like that? It was a much more glamorous story than that she had finally pissed off her poor husband to the point where he had shoved her down onto the pavement, trying to get into the car and get home.”
“She was fairly clever at spinning tales,” Wes said.
“Which didn’t end up winning her any contests,” Holly commented.
We all shook our heads.
“Madeline, I talked to Beryl Duncan this morning,” Wes said.
“You did?”
“I was wondering how Esmeralda was doing. We had sort of bonded, you know.”
Wes was a real dog person. I understood he had become attached.
“She said her father was doing okay. He is selling the house, he decided. It seems too big for him and Esme now that Vivian is no longer there to fill it up. And Beryl was pretty excited, really. She had just closed that Kip England divorce settlement she’d been working on.”
“That’s right,” I said, recalling how worked up she had been over it. “She represented the wife.”
“So you’ll love this,” Wes said. “She got Kip England to give his ex 20 million dollars.”
Holly whistled. “That’s my dream amount of money,” she said.
I looked at her. “You have a dream amount of money?”
“Sure. You know, if you had that much you’d never worry about money again. That sort of thing. What about you, Mad. What’s your dream amount of money?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think maybe it’s not too good to get too comfortable.”
“Glad you said that,” Paul said, entering the room. “Hi Maddie, hi guys.”
“Paul! What’s happening already? We’re going nuts. What does Five Star want from us?”
“Your bank statement, for a start.”
“I beg your pardon,” Wesley said.
“Here’s the deal, kids. We take it or leave it. It’s totally up to you. Five Star understands that you have had expenses this year. They are willing to sell you back your company…”
“Oh, no. Here we go again,” Wes said, looking grim.
“Eh, eh, eh…let me finish. They want some of their cashola back, naturally. But they figure, if you deduct what you spent for reasonable expenses, including the party you did for the pope and so on, they will drop their lawsuit and you may go back to business as of tomorrow morning.”
“Do we get to keep the money we spent paying off Maddie’s mortgage?” Wes asked, concerned. “And there was an equal amount I used for a down payment on the house I’m remodeling.”
“That was three hundred thou for Maddie’s mortgage and another three hundred for you, right, Wesley?”
“Right.”
“Sorry, no. They won’t accept that. It must go back.”
“Holy cow,” Holly said, worried.
“Do you think this is the best offer we’ll get?” I asked, trying to readjust to being poor again.
“I do,” Paul said. “But we can go on and fight them in court. That’s always an option. It will take time because they are bastards and they know the more time it takes the longer you’re out of work, but that doesn’t mean we might not win in the end.”
I looked over at Wesley, who was coming to terms with our reality. Perhaps it would have been best had we never had a taste of the rich life.
“Holly,” I said, “I changed my mind. In answer to your question, my dream amount of money is three hundred thousand dollars.”
Wes smiled. “Mine, too.”
“Well, then,” Paul said, with a smile, “you may like to hear what I’ve arranged.”
We all stared at him.
“See, Five Star’s attorneys understand the world. Especially they understand bloodsucking lawyers, you should pardon that expression. They easily agreed that a reasonable expense would cover your attorney’s fees for this litigation.”
“Well, good,” I said, feeling a little better. At least Paul would be paid. I could feel less guilty for all the time he’d given us.
“No, Maddie, I don’t think you fully appreciate what I’m saying. Five Star will allow an expense of eight hundred thou for attorney’s fees.”
“Eight hundred thousand dollars?” Holly was stunned. “Paul! That’s wonderful! You’re rich!”
“Hey, what do you take me for? Come on, now. I mean I will bill you for eight and you will pay me eight, and then I will send you each a check for four hundred thousand dollars.”
“What?”
“Oh, come on, Maddie. It will be perfect. You’ll get to keep your house and so will Wesley, and you can start up Madeline Bean Catering again.”
“You mean Mad Bean Events & Catering,” Wes corrected, but he and I were so excited we could hardly quibble about a name.
There was hugging and congratulating. Holly ran to get us all drinks.
“But you will bill us for real,” I insisted, as I gave Paul a big hug.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. As always. “Oh, and I have news. They finally released Albert Nbutu.”
“Well, it’s about time.”
“The INS have agreed to allow him to stay in the country for now, but they are tough mothers. We’re still working on it. The police have dropped the other minor charges, so that should help.”
“What will he do?”
“Right now he wants to stay in Los Angeles. He wants to get to know his daughter,” Paul said, shaking his head.
Holly returned, hearing this last. “Oh, man. That’s going to be difficult.”
Paul said, “We’ll see. Who knows, once Sara is treated for her poor, unfortunate addiction problem, she may eventually accept him.”
I rather doubted it, but I was not willing to share my dark opinion of human nature with the group when we were busy celebrating our good fortune. Back in business! How sweet that was.
“I spoke with Zelli,” I told everyone. “He called.”
“So what’s up with that?” Paul demanded. “Is Arlo back, or is it going to be this Zelli character?”
“Don’t forget Chuck Honnett,” Holly added. “What is going on there?”
“Hey,” I said, with affection, “give a girl a break. I’m just playing the field. Anything wrong with that?”
“What did Zelli say?” Holly asked.
“He is so odd,” I said. “I cannot believe how blasé he is about the most bizarre events. He seems to have managed to get away with those seven matched emeralds.”
“Good for him,” Paul said. We looked at him. “Well, why not? He took the risk and he beat the cops at the airport.”
“But he and I had some unfinished business. He still had the payment from this client of his for the jewels. The money has already been deposited in a Swiss bank account and Zelli was willing to let me decide to whom he registers the account.”
“I love this guy,” Holly said, breathing deeply. “I could marry this guy.”
“So what did you say?” Wes asked.
“Well, first I told Zelli that Honnett will hold onto the rest of the stones, those forty-five rough emeralds we found in Vivian’s office. He’s not sure if Ralph Duncan will ever get his hands on them, though. It seems the State Department wants to get involved and they may just turn them over to The Republic of Zimbabwe.”
“Really. Imagine that,” Paul said.
“The thing is, Zimbabwe has been strengthening its friendship with the United States recently. They’ve even sold a license to mine emeralds to a U.S. mining company. Zelli was philosophical about the loss of those other stones. He said the Zimbabweans would eventually put them on the market. He expected he would see them again. And he’s even talking about doing a deal to represent Zimbabwe in th
e sales.”
“This is a man who seizes every opportunity,” Wes said, thoughtful. Perhaps he was worried I’d move to Switzerland soon.
“Oh, yes. And the best part. He agreed to transfer the Swiss account with the payment of seven hundred thousand U.S. dollars to the name of Albert Nbutu.”
That last announcement got quite a rousing reaction. The only one who was in the least subdued seemed to be Holly.
I sat down next to her, as Wesley and Paul discussed the ramifications of all these new business deals.
“Holly, you look a little down. What’s the matter?”
“With me? Nothing. No, I’m not down. It’s just that it’s so wonderful that Albert will get his dream money, and that you and Wesley will end up with the company intact and still get your dream money.”
“But where is your dream money?” I looked at my sweet assistant and sighed.
“Everyone,” I announced, catching the men in mid-discussion. “In honor of the restart of Mad Bean whatever we’re gonna call it, I’d like to propose a promotion. I think we need to promote Holly Nichols to Vice President and Manager.”
That started everyone talking about how we were going to go forward and what new parties we were suddenly free to pursue.
Interrupting our chatter, the phone rang and I picked it up.
“Hello, Madeline? It’s Darius, darling.”
My friend and florist. I hadn’t spoken to him for a while.
“I’m totally swamped, sweetie. We’re doing more weddings this June than ever before. Luckily Whisper Pettibone has taken the reins of Vivian Duncan Weddings and we are going strong. Do you know, he didn’t lose one bride? Amazing. So I was just calling to find out how you are doing.”
“Me? I’m fantastic. I just got the news that our company is back on track. We should have several events booked by next week. I’ll call you.”
“Thanks, pet. Oh, and I’ve been following the news about the Sara Silver thingie. Can you believe it? We met her together, and I swear, I could never see it coming.”
“I don’t think everyone who is capable of murder looks like a raving lunatic, Darius. In fact, it’s scarier to think they look like Sara Silver.”
“So true. And I was hoping you weren’t getting too down on yourself. Not depressed, are you?”
“Depressed? Why would I be depressed?”
“Good for you. Just don’t go there.”
“Go where?”
“Well, I just meant that when you were in my shop last month, when you were doing that tabletop for Sara and her fiancé, didn’t you talk those two into getting married? I mean, wasn’t that match breaking apart and then you glued it back together? I just thought you might be feeling some regrets, not that you should. But if you hadn’t done such a brilliant job of patching up that dishy young man with Sara Silver, it’s more than likely they’d not have gotten married and Vivian might still be…well, no good to moan about what could have been. No reason at all. Just wanted to stay in touch.” And then Darius, realizing he’d said way, way too much, rang off.
I slowly replaced the receiver.
“What now?” Wes asked. “Bad news?”
“Not exactly,” I said, but I was not ready to talk about the issue Darius had raised.
Here we all are, unwitting accomplices to all of life’s agonies. We turn left, and we are almost killed by a wildly out-of-control car whirring by. Lucky we stopped. We turn right, and we never realize that by taking just one step, safe and well-meaning as we may be, we may have allowed a deadly chain of events to keep rolling by, taking with it another’s life.
But surely, even had I not gotten involved, Vivian would have patched up the Sara Silver-Brent Bell union. She would have had her wedding. But would she have met the same fate? I wondered. Would just the extraction of one element, me, have altered the course of events to such an extent that the results would not have been fatal?
“Hello,” Holly said, waving a hand.
I looked up, back to the present, still unsettled.
“Did you ever tell Wesley about your gift?”
“Oh,” I said, snapping back. “I almost forgot. Holly found a box left for me this morning.”
“You’re kidding. It’s not your birthday.”
“That’s right, it isn’t. But here’s the thing. Arlo was very inspired by our dinner last week.” I pulled a small box from out of my pocket. “He sent me a get-back-together gift.”
I opened it and the group crowded around to see. Inside the little box from Tiffany’s was a pair of earrings. They were classic little studs made from two beautiful emeralds set in yellow gold.
“Where’d he get the taste?” Wes asked, approvingly.
“You don’t need taste when you’ve got money,” Paul said, joking.
“You scored!” Wes said, happy for me.
“Yes, but that’s not all she got.” Holly would tell all my secrets if I didn’t watch out.
Holly held up a card she’d opened that morning, as she opens all of our mail. It showed a large emerald on the cover.
“Appropriate,” Wes said. “This from Arlo, too? I swear, that man is turning over a whole new leaf.”
“No,” Holly said, tattling. “This is from Honnett.”
“Honnett sent you a card?” Wes was intrigued.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a payoff on a bet we made a while ago.”
Holly steamrolled on. “He says he’ll be over at seven in the morning on Sunday. He says he’ll be her slave…”
“Oh my,” Paul said.
“…for twenty-four hours,” Holly finished.
“My, my, my,” Paul added.
“Hey, we’re just fooling around,” I said, laughing.
“Which reminds me,” Paul said, after everyone had had his or her laugh about how popular I had suddenly become. “When I came up the steps I met the UPS guy. I signed for this.”
From out of his pocket he pulled a small UPS envelope.
“It’s for Mad,” Holly said, reading the label. “Of course it is. Whatever your horoscope is for today, frame it.”
I looked at the label and blushed. It had been sent from Colombia. From Zelli Gentz.
Inside was the most amazing jewel we had any of us ever seen. It was, of course, a perfect emerald. Mounted on a gold ring.
“It’s got to be ten carats,” Holly whispered, shocked.
“I’d say it can’t be real…” I said, losing it, “…but I don’t think Zelli would…”
“Of course it’s real!” Wes said, gawking. “I think it’s worth more than the house.”
I read the note.
“The sultan has had a shakeup in his staff. One general has lost his position and probably his head. Lucky for me, the business arrangements had been settled in advance, as this one perfect stone was destined to be yours.”
The good and the evil. The love and the rage. Life was a study in contrasts. It reminded me of the wedding vows I don’t like to sit through. The vows I avoid like the plague. “For richer or poorer, in sickness and health…” Perhaps we are not meant to obsess on the small decisions, the tiny steps we are always taking. Perhaps we are only supposed to walk on.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Annoyed that I hadn’t planned better, I booked the only vacant hotel room in all Tucson, Arizona. A family celebration brought us to that beautiful city on the sold-out weekend of the International Gems & Minerals Show. Somewhere, thirty miles from Jonathan Kobritz’s bar mitzvah festivities, my family gamely settled into our brand new “all-suite” shoebox. I can still recall the feeling of dismay at trying to squeeze into an overflowing “breakfast” room that first morning, as dozens of “all-suite” guests vied for not-entirely-fresh pastries. When, finally, the children had eaten and gone to play, I returned to our little table, cardboard teacup in hand, to spend a brief respite with my husband. I was not entirely cordial, it might be understated, when a tall, dark stranger with longish hair began to settle at our table.<
br />
I smile, now, at how close I came to missing one of the most mesmerizing personal stories I have ever heard, modestly told by this unexpectedly charming new aquaintance. To protect his privacy I will not mention here this gentleman’s name. To prevent spoiling this book’s tale I will not mention here details of his true-life adventures and daring youthful career. But acknowledge him I must. With a commemorative paper cup of hot tea, I would like to salute a passing stranger’s wild and reckless past and his willingness to speak openly about it to one who—finally awake—warmed up quickly, full of questions.
As always, I want to thank Evan Marshall, wonderful friend and gifted literary agent, and also Lyssa Keusch, wonderful friend and brilliant editor. I must also thank sweet providence for bringing that particular fascinating stranger over to that particular faux-granite Formica table in that particular breakfast room. And I must thank my beloved Chris for making all things possible, including, as only one of a million examples, not allowing me to shoo that particular treasure away on that particular morning.
Other Madeline Bean Catering Mysteries by
Jerrilyn Farmer
IMMACULATE RECEPTION
SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
KILLER WEDDING. Copyright © 2000 by Jerrilyn Farmer. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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