Sam was standing at the window, staring out at the dark night. At the sound of the door opening, he turned.
And gaped. His mouth dropped open and his eyebrows flew up toward his hairline.
“Wow,” he said softly.
Lacey smiled in pleasant surprise, but blushed, too. “You like?” she asked.
“Like?” he repeated. “You look… gorgeous.”
Her face flamed even more, but she twirled to give him the full effect. By the time she turned around to face him again, he was there in front of her.
“Maggie Unrue,” he read, touching her name tag. “Hmm. I’ve heard about you.”
“Oh?” She smiled saucily. “And are you going to introduce yourself, sir?”
“Not a chance,” he said. At her pout, he explained. “Hey, you got to make your grand entrance. I’ll make mine downstairs.”
She thought about that, then nodded once. “Okay. That’s fair. I’ll see you down there.” She turned to go.
“Hey,” he said. “How about a kiss?”
“Not a chance,” she repeated. She tossed him a lopsided grin. “Not until we’ve been properly introduced.”
And she skipped out the door.
~~~
FIVE
Lacey forced herself to watch where she put her feet on the steps going down rather than glance around the mirrored ballroom. She heard the low murmur of voices, the clink of glasses. At the bottom of the stairs, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.
“Ah, here’s another guest,” Irene announced. She came to Lacey and took her arm. She was still wearing the black palazzo pants, but had traded the blouse for a silver tunic that was literally covered in sequins. She glittered and flashed like a disco ball.
“Everyone? This is Maggie Unrue. Maggie, what would you like to drink?”
Lacey’s brain scrambled. What was a ‘20s drink? “Uh, a martini?” she guessed.
“Martini it is,” Irene said. She snapped her fingers at a white-jacketed bartender behind a wooden bar and the man immediately grabbed a metal shaker. While he made the drink, Irene propelled Lacey toward the guests already there.
“Maggie, I would like you to meet Lady Nina Matyi and Judge Zachary McDowell.”
Lacey shook hands with the striking black couple. “Zachary” was tall—over six feet—and of a slim build. He held himself stiffly—uncomfortably so, Lacey thought—but his dark eyes sparkled. He took Lacey’s hand and kissed the back of it.
Lady Nina was more aloof. She shook hands limply, only with her fingertips, and stared down her nose at Lacey.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” she said in a snide voice. She pointedly looked away, the feathers in her headband nodding.
Lacey’s back stiffened. Don’t take it personally, she reminded herself. It’s an act. Old established money looking down on new money.
“And here,” Irene said, pulling her along, “is Frederick Culp. Frederick is a world renowned composer.”
Lacey locked eyes with Ed LaRosa, Christine’s husband, and had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. He was decked out in a 1920s tuxedo, complete with black bow tie. He’d parted his hair in the middle and slicked it down.
“How do you do?” he asked in what might have been an Austrian accent. He took her hand warmly.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lacey said. Could he be one of her allies?
“And here we have Roger Ludlow,” Irene continued. “He’s in horses.”
Lacey offered her hand. “Horses?” she asked.
“Thoroughbred race horses,” he said. “Star King Stables in Kentucky. You’ve heard of Man O’War?”
“Of course,” Lacey said with surprise. “Is he yours?”
“Roger” looked slightly embarrassed, his pasty face darkening to red. “No. But I have a son of his, Medal of War.”
“How nice,” Lacey said. She wondered if the man playing Roger had any horse sense. He had a paunch, and the loud plaid jacket of red and blue only drew attention to that fact.
Just then the bartender brought Lacey her drink and Irene broke away.
“Ah. Veronica Grayson is here. Excuse me.” She moved toward the stairs where the portly woman was slowly descending.
More old money, Lacey thought. The woman’s low-cut black gown revealed the jiggling tops of ample breasts, and her throat, wrists and fingers were all bedecked with gaudy jewelry. She played a snooty bitch as Irene toured her around.
Lacey sipped her martini and waited to be introduced. When Irene brought Veronica to her, Lacey shook hands briefly.
“How do you do?” she asked without smiling.
Veronica arched one eyebrow at her, as if wondering who let the riff-raff in.
“My pleasure,” she said, then immediately turned to Roger. “Where can one get a drink?” she asked petulantly.
So I’m chopped liver, Lacey thought. That’s okay. I can give as good as I get.
She glanced up at movement on the stairs and saw Christine coming down. She wore a deep red beaded dress and a red sequined headband. She held a long cigarette holder in one hand and puffed on it—although no smoke resulted—with bright red lips.
As Irene took her around, Lacey gravitated back toward “Frederick.” Together they waited for Irene and Christine to join them.
“And this is Maggie Unrue,” Irene said. “Linzey Hamilton, the famous film star.”
“Of course,” Lacey said, shaking hands. “How nice to meet you.”
“And you,” Christine said. Lacey could tell she was trying hard not to smile.
Lacey calculated quickly. Now that Christine was here, there were seven of them, not counting Irene. So that meant Sam was…
“Ah, our last distinguished guest,” Irene said. She moved toward the stairs and all eyes looked up.
Lacey’s jaw dropped.
A stranger descended. Dr. Vasan Chowdhury, the brilliant brain surgeon. He wore white flared pants and a gold brocade Nehru jacket, which all served to highlight the copper hue of his skin. His head was wrapped in a stark white turban, and he sported a mustache and a pointy Van Gogh beard.
Dumbfounded, Lacey searched in vain for her husband.
As he gained the ground floor, he moved toward Irene. Okay, now Lacey could see his eyes, dark, sparkling, devilish. Why, that sneak! How in the hell had he pulled this off?
Irene took his arm and toured him around to meet everyone. At each introduction, he put his hands together and bowed solemnly. He spoke very little, just a syllable or two, and only in a low voice. When Irene finally towed him over toward Lacey, Ed, and Christine, Lacey realized all eyes were following him.
“Dr. Chowdhury,” Irene said, “this is Linzey Hamilton and Frederick Culp. I’m sure you’re familiar with their work in motion pictures.”
Again, he put his hands together in a prayerful gesture and bowed his head toward each. “Namaste,” he said quietly.
“And I don’t need to introduce you to Maggie, of course.”
Sam turned toward Lacey, his eyes dancing. “Namaste,” he said with the barest smile.
Lacey wanted to punch him.
“What can we get you to drink?” Irene asked.
Sam considered that. “Warm yak milk?”
Irene was about to signal the bartender but stopped and did a double-take. “I, uh, I don’t believe we have that,” she said.
“Just water,” Sam said.
Irene smiled thinly. “Fine.” She excused herself to the bar.
Lacey inched closer and took his arm. “Vasan, darling, you made quite an entrance.”
“I’ll say,” Christine muttered. “I think we know who’s going to win best costume award.”
Sam inclined his head regally.
“Here you are, Dr. Chowdhury.” Irene brought him a glass of ice water. “Now, please, all of you, circulate. We’ve got a bit of time before dinner.”
By tacit agreement, the four friends split up. Christine and Ed veered off toward Roger and Ve
ronica, so Lacey and Sam went to join Judge McDowell and Lady Nina.
“She hates me,” Lacey whispered to Sam.
“Hmm,” she heard him mutter.
“Dr. Chowdhury,” Lady Nina said. She held out her hand to him, completely ignoring Lacey. “How lovely to meet you. I understand your surgical talents are legendary.”
Sam only took her pinkie in a quick touch, then returned his hands to the prayerful posture and bowed. “Namaste. You are too kind, Lady Nina.”
She pouted prettily. “I’m ashamed to show my ignorance, but what does ‘Namaste’ mean?”
“It is a greeting,” Sam said, enunciating clearly. “The literal translation is, ‘I bow to you.’”
“Oh.” She looked puzzled by that, clearly not what she was expecting. “What part of India are you from? Delhi? Bombay?”
Lacey turned her eyes on her husband. At this point she had no idea what he was going to come up with.
“Tuba City, Lady.”
“Tuba—?”
Lacey bit her lip to keep from laughing. She turned to the judge.
“What court do you sit on?” she asked.
“New York Supreme Court,” he said.
“Oh, my.” Lacey smiled. “You must hear the most interesting stories.”
“You’d be amazed,” he said. He smiled kindly.
Lacey leaned close. “And probably a lot of dirt on people in high places,” she guessed.
Zachary faltered at that a little, then laughed once. “I don’t know about that,” he hedged.
Suddenly Irene was tapping a knife on her martini glass, calling for attention.
“Everyone,” she said loudly, “I know none of you need an introduction, but I’d like to present my husband, Mason. He’s been the impetus behind our little party here.”
Everyone applauded briefly. Roger held up his drink and said, “To Mason!”
Mason took a quick bow, then began to make his way around the room. He was not tall, the same height as his wife, slightly overweight with thinning dark hair. He seemed at ease in his tuxedo, and smiled broadly as he went from person to person.
He approached Lacey with outstretched arms and took her hand in both of his. “Maggie, ravishing as always.” He pulled her close and kissed both cheeks. “You’ve recovered your figure nicely, my dear. The years have been good to you.”
“Thank you, Mason. It’s good to see you, too. It’s been too long.”
“Much too long,” he agreed. “We must rectify that.” He grinned at her with what might have been a leer, then turned to Sam. “Vasan. How are you, old man? Still cutting people up into pieces?”
Lacey saw a flash of alarm in Sam’s eyes. What was that about? She reflected on the weirdness of pretending to know someone she’d never seen before in her life. But she was far more interested in the quick back and forth between Mason and the others.
Sam allowed Mason to take one hand in a manly handshake, and he smiled meagerly. “And sewing them back together,” he added to Mason’s question.
“Of course, of course,” Mason laughed. He turned to the Hungarian. “Lady Nina. As lovely as ever. Did you spend the summer at the family castle? Or did you stay here with our less-than-lordly judge?”
Nina’s smile faltered, then took on a forced brightness. “The castle was being renovated,” she said. “Dusty old thing. Zachary and I were talking of building a replica in the Hamptons.”
“Oh? I daresay the neighbors will love that.” He turned to Zachary. “And you, old sod, you must be raking in the dough if you’re able to appease this lady’s many… appetites.”
Zachary’s smile flattened out into a grim line before partially reviving. He laughed loudly, as if Mason had made the best joke.
“So what’s this announcement you’re making tonight?” Zachary asked.
Mason quirked an eyebrow and pointed a finger at him. “Tut, tut, my boy. You’ll find out soon enough. All of you will.”
And he turned away to go banter with the others.
Lacey glanced at each of her partners in the group—Sam, Zachary and Lady Nina. All looked a little shell-shocked. What was it Mason had said to each? She wished she had her digital recorder. Very quickly, she tried to reconstruct the gist of each comment to cement them in her mind. Sam: cutting people up into pieces. Lady Nina: going back to the family castle. Zachary: rolling in dough. She remembered what Mason had said to her: she’d gotten her figure back. Obviously he was alluding to the out-of-wedlock pregnancy. She surmised that each question was a clue, each pointing up a dark secret in each person’s past. She filed them away for later.
~~~
SIX
Irene was tapping on her glass again, calling for attention.
“All right, everyone. Dinner is ready. Please find your place cards and take your seat at the table.”
As soon as she finished speaking, ornate double wooden doors opened from the next room, and liveried waiters gestured toward the interior of the large dining area. The room had sixteen-foot ceilings, crown molding all around, and pale peach walls. Twin crystal chandeliers hung over either end of the long dining room table, which was laden with bone china dishes, sterling flatware and gleaming cut glass stemware.
Lacey and Sam brought up the rear as the column of guests filtered through the doors. Sam caught her hand briefly and smiled. “Having fun?” he whispered close to her ear.
She nodded. It was surreal to feel her ear tickled by his mustache.
Since they were the last, their two places at table were the only unoccupied ones. Lacey had the end seat right off Mason’s left, and Roger was on her left. Sam was down on the other side, sandwiched between Veronica and Irene. As soon as everyone was seated, white-coated waiters began setting small plates of still warm bread around the table.
Mason sliced the mini loaf and offered the first piece to Lacey. She took it and spread butter on it.
“Mmm,” she moaned at her first bite. Warm, soft, buttery. She realized she was starving.
“Good?” Mason asked.
“Fabulous,” Lacey said. She swallowed and cautioned herself to eat slowly. She could easily down that whole loaf by herself. “So how long have you owned this house?” she asked.
Mason smiled at her. “About five years. Long after you and I parted ways.”
Again she was struck by the weirdness of pretending to have history with a total stranger. She did notice how Lady Nina, directly across from her, perked up at Mason’s response, though.
“That was a long time ago,” Lacey said. “A lot has changed.”
“Yes, it has.” He nodded sagely. “You and Vasan seem to be doing quite well.”
Lacey glanced down at Sam, bending close to Veronica to hear her say something. She almost laughed at the turban and beard.
“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice modulated, “we are. Thank you.”
“Amazing how things turn out, isn’t it?” He offered her another slice of bread. She thought she probably shouldn’t but took it anyway.
“Yes, it is.” She shrugged. “But it keeps life interesting.”
He leaned close. “And I’ve got something interesting for you,” he said in a low voice.
Lacey saw Nina’s eyes narrow, and felt Roger huddling closer. “Oh?” She kept her voice light. “What’s that?”
“You’ll find out,” he said with a smirk. “Later.”
Lacey tried to read his eyes. If she were really who she pretended to be, she’d be chilled by the cold blue orbs that studied her.
She slid her gaze down to her bread and put all her attention to buttering it.
“And you, Lady Nina,” She heard Mason say. “You’re looking lovely, as usual. I daresay the judge is keeping you on the right side of the law.”
Lacey glanced up quickly to catch the red glow beneath Nina’s dark skin. The woman’s nostrils flared, and when she smiled, it did not reach her eyes.
“Oh, Mason,” she chided. “You’re such a joker. I do
n’t drive anymore; I leave that to my chauffeur. No more worries about parking tickets.” She batted her false eyelashes at him.
Roger leaned across in front of Lacey to address Mason. “So what’s this big announcement?” he asked. Lacey caught the strong smell of booze on his breath.
Mason was saved from answering by the sudden appearance of waiters laying plates of prime rib at every seat. The artfully arranged entrée was complimented by potatoes au gratin and asparagus with a drizzled lemon butter sauce.
“In due time,” Mason answered finally. “Just before midnight I should think.” He picked up his fork but only pointed it at Roger. “Why? Are you worried?”
Roger pulled back, frowning. “Worried? No, of course not. Just curious.”
Mason took a bite of his prime rib and chewed thoughtfully. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he said lightly.
Lacey tried her own prime rib. It was fork-tender, as she fully expected, and full of savory juices. The potatoes were delicate and flavorful, and the asparagus was done just right. She sighed at the delicious flavors that bathed her tongue.
The conversation at the table lulled as people concentrated on dinner. Two waiters circled the table, refilling water glasses or pouring wine. Suddenly a third waiter rushed out from the kitchen and strode directly to Mason.
“Sir,” he said, then bowed low to whisper in Mason’s ear.
Lacey watched their host from beneath her lashes. He listened intently, nodded once and pushed back from the table. The waiter retreated.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Mason said, glancing around the table. “I’m afraid business calls.”
“Oh, Mason,” Irene chided. “Can’t it wait?”
“Not this, no,” he said. He laid his linen napkin on the table and got to his feet. “I’ll be back shortly.” He made a brief bow and turned on his heel, disappearing through a door to the back part of the house.
Lacey kept her head down but just moved her eyes, surveying the table. This was the time when everyone needed to disappear for a brief few moments. Who would go first?
Lady Nina answered that question. She sipped her wine, but some of it dribbled down her chin onto her lap.
Mystery Walk Page 3
