The party on Thursday night was a big success, and Grover managed to stay upbeat throughout the evening, despite being approached by the host and interrogated about his knowledge of Walt’s murder. Though there had been nothing in the newspapers or online to suggest that Grover was a person of interest, word had gotten around and several of Grover’s clients had cancelled parties and events. This host, though willing to allow the party to go ahead with catering by DC Haute Cuisine, was determined to conduct an investigation of his own to ensure he hadn’t hired a cold-blooded murderer.
Daisy had been arranging cups and saucers for tea and coffee on a long table when the host first approached Grover.
“I hear you might be in a little bit of trouble with the police,” he began.
Grover turned around from where he had been arranging an artful display area for the food.
“Uh, I have been questioned about a murder because I was one of the last people to see the victim alive,” Grover answered, giving a long glance around the area to see who might be eavesdropping. Daisy knew he didn’t want a lot of people to know about his “trouble,” as the host phrased it.
“So what did you see?” the host asked. It seemed a potentially gruesome question and Grover straightened up to his full height.
“I didn’t see anything,” he articulated. “Nothing at all.”
“Did you have an argument with the man?” the host asked.
“Yes.”
“What about?”
Grover’s eyes cast about, looking for anyone who could extricate him from the conversation. Daisy sensed his discomfort and hurried over to where he was standing.
“Sir,” she addressed the host, “I’m setting up the beverage table and I have a few questions. Would you mind coming over to take a look?” The host, after giving Grover a long look, followed Daisy to the table. She walked slowly to give herself enough time to think up questions to ask him. She looked once over her shoulder and Grover was leaning heavily on the heels of his hands, his head bowed over the table where he had been working.
After Daisy had steered the host and his probing questions away from Grover, guests started to arrive and the catering staff was busy for the rest of the evening. The party ran quite late.
When everyone had finished packing up the van at the end of the evening, Grover walked up to Daisy.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue earlier,” he said. “I don’t know how I would have handled it if he had kept asking all those questions.”
“No problem,” Daisy answered breezily with a wave of her hand.
“Why don’t I give you a ride home?” he asked. “I don’t think you should be on the Metro this late at night.”
“That would be great. Thank you,” Daisy replied.
“Thanks again for helping tonight. Are you tired?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” Daisy replied, her voice slow. Grover chuckled.
“I forget how tired I used to be when I started in this business. Now it seems like second nature, but in the beginning I was exhausted all the time,” Grover said.
“I can see why.”
“Make sure you drink lots of coffee. And lots of water,” he suggested. “That’ll help.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said, suppressing a yawn.
“Like I said, I’ve been doing it for years. I’ll just unpack the van at the office and head home.”
“Is someone going to help you?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah, Tish is meeting me there.”
Daisy nodded and closed her eyes for the rest of the ride home. When Grover pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building, she yawned and turned to look at him. He didn’t look quite right. She could tell even from the little light that shone above the rear-view mirror that he looked wan and pasty.
“Grover, you look a little pale. Is everything okay?”
He turned to look at her.
“I’m really nervous, Daisy. That guy tonight has me worried about my business. What if I get arrested? What if word gets out that I’ve been interviewed because one of my clients was killed and I was the last one to see him alive? What if it gets out that I argued with him about the bill?”
“What if you stop worrying about the what ifs and just concentrate on your work and doing what you do best?” Daisy asked. “You can’t control what the police do or what party hosts do. All you can do is control what you do. I know it’s a tall order to stop thinking about this murder investigation, but you can’t let it control your life. You have a business to run, so go run it. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what was going on between Brian and Walt and Fiona and the whole test-cheating scandal. I’ll do what I can on my end--you just keep throwing good parties.”
Grover’s gaze softened as he looked at Daisy. “Thanks, Daisy. I’m sorry for being a jerk lately.”
“That’s okay.” She could have insisted that he hadn’t been a jerk, but he had. He was right. She couldn’t discuss it or she’d fall asleep, though, so she got out of the car, went inside, and dropped into bed.