Chapter 11
As I drank the wine, I thought about meeting Mitch this evening following the show. Although I had accepted the fact earlier in the week that I might never see him again, and even acknowledged to myself that it would be better if I did not, I still could not control the rush of excitement that filled me when I thought of him, the fluttering of my stomach when the phone rang and I would answer, hoping it was him. That the relationship was doomed to fail had no real impact on my thoughts. I wanted him, I loved him and could no more control my emotions than I could change the circumstances of my life. “Oh, what the hell,” I said as I drained the last of the bottle. “I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.” So I would see him and continue to see him as long as I could. With that decision reached, I felt relieved and turned my attentions to preparation for this evening.
After careful deliberation and discarding the usual graceful sweep of full skirts, I chose a gown designed for last year’s line but never shown since it did not fit the Griffin image. It was a black, strapless sheath slit to mid–thigh for ease in walking. I had carefully embellished the hem and side slit with red sequins and rhinestones in a flame-like pattern. When I moved the light reflected and danced giving the impression that the dress was indeed on fire. As a final concession to Max, I pinned my hair up in an approximation of a Gibson Girl. I frowned at it in the mirror, wondering how long the countless pins would hold, but decided to leave it up. My shoulders looked almost white against the black of the dress; I did not want to distract from their marble appearance. The final adornment was a pair of small ruby earrings and a matching necklace that had belonged to my mother. After one final glance in the mirror, I covered it all with my cape and went through the office and downstairs to meet the limousine hired for the evening.
We arrived early enough to avoid the press and the public. The show was being held in one of the most exclusive hotels in town. Two of the ballrooms were reserved for the show itself, one large room was to be partitioned off into small dressing areas; a smaller area outside the ballrooms was set aside as the reception area. I walked through this area, noticing with pleasure that all was elegant, understated and dignified. I held my breath while opening the main doors; the preparations this week had progressed well, but the area had still been unfinished yesterday.
I let my breath out in a relieved sigh. It was perfect, exactly as I had envisioned it. The walls had been covered with heavy grey paper, printed to appear as rough hewn stones. The gilt hands grasping candles that lined the walls were shamelessly borrowed from Jean Cocteau; the theme of the show was one that he himself had borrowed: “Beauty and the Beast.” I thought that I would probably lose points for originality on this initially, but the theme was maintained throughout the show. The macabre backdrop was only one element. The models themselves would carry the message that beauty and the grotesque were often separated by a very thin line.
Removing my cape and draping it over my arm, I slowly walked down one of the center aisles to approach the runway. As I stepped on the platform, I jumped when one of the hands moved, then laughed inwardly at my apprehension. They had been designed to move almost imperceptibly, in sequence; the technicians were merely making their final test. I laughed again when I noticed that we had lost the fight with the fire marshall; the hands held electric candles, not the real ones I had wanted to use. I shrugged off this last problem; it was not noticeable except here on the stage. All that mattered was that the desired mood be set.
Stepping through one of the side doors, I entered into the dressing areas, squinting against the bright lights. When my vision cleared, I made a mental count to find that all the models had arrived. Some were giggling in nervousness; others sat quietly while the last touches of makeup were applied.
“Good evening, ladies.”
When they all turned to face me at my greeting, the effect was chilling. I experienced a moment of apprehension that perhaps I had gone too far. I studied the models individually; each wore a gown, characteristic of Griffin Designs with the romantic touches of lace, ruffles, satin and velvet. But each model had received an added touch, a flaw in their perfect appearance. On some it was subtle: excessively long nails coated in black lacquer or sharpened white canines peeking out from beneath blood red lips. For others who were willing to take more of a risk, we had ordered full theatrical makeup transforming them into various wild animals: one posed as a serpent; another, a cat; a third, a large black raven. Those who did not wish to take part wore full or half-masks, to hint only of the grotesque beneath. The overall effect was nightmarish, almost hallucinogenic.
“Well,” I addressed them slowly, “they will either love us or hate us, but this will be a show that won’t be forgotten soon. I’m very pleased, thank you all.” I glanced at the clock. “Forty-five minutes until the show, ladies. Good luck.”
As they all turned away to complete their preparation, I motioned one model, the serpent girl, to me. “Janie, you look wonderful,” I complimented her, knowing that she had planned on doing her own makeup. She smiled at me as I continued. “Have you seen Gwen anywhere in this chaos?”
She knew the rules about staying in the area prior to a show and looked away, hesitating slightly before she answered. “She’s here somewhere, Miss Griffin. Should I look for her?”
“Janie, I know you two are friends, and I know she’d tell you where she was going. Save the mystery for the show and tell me where she is.”
“Sorry, Miss Griffin. She sort of asked me to cover for her. You see, her date came early and she wanted to spend a little time with him alone. She’s not been gone long, no more than five or ten minutes. Everything here is pretty much in control and . . .”
“Don’t worry, Janie, she won’t get in trouble. Where is she?”
“In the bar,” Janie confessed in a lowered voice. “She should be back real soon now.”
“Thank you, Janie. I’ll get her.” I smiled at her reassuringly. “Good luck.”
I left the dressing room and returned to the platform. The hands followed me as I walked the runway. I glanced in the direction of the control booth. “Perfect, gentlemen,” I called to them as I strode out of the room.
Two of the hotel staff members were stationed in the reception area and I questioned them about whether there was a back route into the bar. I did not want to meet with any of the crowd that had begun to gather in the lobby. Following the directions given, I rushed down the back hallways and cursed Gwen all the way there. The only good thing in all this, I thought, was that it seemed to represent a reconciliation with Nick. I didn’t think she would have asked anyone else to attend. And while I did not like him much, I far preferred her keeping company with Nick than with Larry or anyone else she would find at the Ballroom of Romance. There were too many unanswered questions concerning Larry. I didn’t trust him, not with Gwen.
When I entered the bar, I saw her immediately. Her bright swirls of color stood out from the primarily dark evening attire of the other clientele. She was sitting facing the door engrossed in conversation with someone I immediately assumed to be Nick, from the possessive way his arm encircled her shoulders. I approached them and she glanced at me in surprise. “Oh, hi,” she said, not meeting my eyes.
“Gwen, I hate to interrupt your reunion but we really do have to get the show started. You and Nick can get cozy afterwards . . .” I stopped abruptly as he turned around. Of course it wasn’t Nick. His build and hair color were similar but I should not have been fooled. I suppose I saw what I had wanted to see.
“Hello, Larry.” I smiled to cover my broken composure, the skin crawled at the base of my neck and I repressed a shiver, remembering his disclosures at our last meeting. “How nice of you to come this evening.”
He rose slowly and looked me up and down, leeringly. “Deirdre, what a pleasant surprise. We were just talking about you, weren’t we, Gwen?” He nodded at her briefly then turned his attention back to me. “You look beautiful as usual. Who’s the lucky man tonight?” His voice was calm and pleasant, but the sneer on his face distorted and twisted the words. I looked quickly at Gwen, but she did not seem to notice as she stood up awkwardly and began to collect her coat and purse.
“We really need to leave, Gwen. Nice to see you again, Larry.” I turned and walked out of the bar.
Gwen caught up with me a few seconds later, breathless and apologetic. “I’m sorry, Deirdre. I know I should have stayed with the others. But when he sent the message that he was here, I wanted to see him for a bit. Everything was going fine, with the show, I mean, and I didn’t think a few minutes away would hurt. He’s just so nice.” When I made no reply, she continued, “It won’t happen again, I promise.”
I stopped abruptly and turned to her. “Gwen,” I said softly, looking into her eager face. “I don’t begrudge you a few minutes to yourself, I really don’t. God knows, I give you precious little time to pursue your personal affairs. And I do not want to interfere with your life or your choices. But before you get more deeply involved with Larry, you and I need to talk. Do you two have plans after the show?” She nodded and tried to look away, but I grasped her chin and turned her face toward me. “Cancel them,” I ordered peremptorily. “I do not want you to see him again until we talk about this. Please listen to me on this, it is very important. You must not see him again.” She nodded again, this time her eyes were locked on mine. I hoped the command would take.
I released my hold on her and she swayed as she stood, still dazed. Then she relaxed and shook her head briefly as she stared bewildered around her. “What are we doing hanging around here? Let’s get going,” she said, beginning to move down the hall, “or they’ll start without us.”
The show went well. The macabre treatment was tolerated by most, enjoyed by some and the designs, the most important part after all, were well received. Following the show, those with invitations remained behind for a small reception. Although I normally hated these affairs, I forced myself to attend and exchange pleasantries with my guests. After talking to a succession of nameless faces, accepting compliments and answering questions, I went to claim a glass of wine. Unfortunately, at the bar, I was cornered by a writer for a prominent women’s publication. She wanted to discuss the social and psychological ramifications of the fashion industry. I smiled and nodded and managed to make the proper replies, all the while searching for the easiest way to excuse myself from her company. She provided the perfect opportunity by asking about Gwen, who had been given credit in the program for being both my assistant and co–designer. “Have you never met Gwen?” I questioned. “You really must meet, she is a wonderful help and I couldn’t function without her. I’ll find her and send her over.”
I looked around and saw Gwen deep in conversation with someone in the far corner. I weaved through the crowd, nodding and smiling and arrived in time to hear a familiar voice quietly advising her. “Don’t forget what I have told you, my dear. It’s very important.”
“Hello, Max.” I gave him an apologetic smile for the interruption. “May I borrow Gwen for a moment?” He nodded his agreement and I pulled her to one side. “Gwen, here’s your chance to earn your large bonus.”
“Huh?” I wondered how many glasses of wine she had drunk. “What large bonus?”
“The one you will get for helping me out.” I explained the situation and she agreed readily. “Tell her anything you like, but keep her talking and away from me. Thank you.” I gave her hand a small squeeze and sent her on her way. This was a situation she would have to learn how to handle in the future.
Max drew up closely beside me. “You look elegant, Deirdre. So, you finally decided to wear your hair up. It’s very becoming.”
“Just for you, Max. And I see that you have finally found someone else on whom to bestow your fatherly advice.” I gestured in Gwen’s direction.
“She’s a sweet thing, Deirdre. I was merely offering my opinion on her present choice of company. You know she had been seeing Larry, don’t you?”
“He isn’t still here, is he?” I glanced around the room.
“No, he’s not.”
“Good. I tried to warn her away earlier, but I’m not sure that she listened.”
“Perhaps she’ll take my advice more seriously than yours.”
“I also have a problem with Larry; what exactly did you tell him about me?”
He looked at me and smiled. “I told you, my dear, a brief, varnished story. I told him where you were from initially and what your name was before you changed it to Deirdre Griffin.”
I was instantly relieved and laughed. “Thank God, Max. I thought he knew everything since he called me Dorothy. I don’t mind telling you I had a few rough moments worrying over it.”
“Not surprising.” He moved closer to me. “But you know I, of all people, would never betray you.”
“Do I?”
“Of course you do. Now, enough of that topic. Don’t you want to know what I thought of your show?” He smiled mockingly.
“I don’t know, do I?”
“You should, my love.” He reached over and began to toy with a strand of hair that had escaped the pins. His breath was warm in my ear and I suppressed my shudder. “What a revelation for you to make. It was wild and exotic and, if I may say so, extremely arousing. You aimed straight for me, didn’t you? Romance, with the element of danger. I’m reminded of a vast sky, a wide field, and a certain young waitress . . .”
“I was not that young then, Max, and I’m certainly not now.” I spoke harshly, because, as usual, his presence and his words had a disquieting effect on me.
He continued on, undaunted. “Why did we never repeat the experience? We could now, you know. I closed the club tonight in honor of your show. We could go there now, we would have the whole place to ourselves. Deirdre, Deirdre come with me.” His voice was low and urgent and so persuasive that I felt myself weakening. I, too, remembered that night so many years ago with tenderness and passion. He felt my resistance subside and pulled me closer to him. And yet, as I looked into his shining eyes and felt his hands grasp at my bare shoulders, I remembered other nights spent in loneliness and despair, feelings that had been caused in part by him, feelings he had not eased. My mind turned to the time I had spent with Mitch and I drew strength from that remembrance.
“No, Max,” I said softly but sternly. “I will not go with you. It’s too late for that.”
I pushed him away and he stared at me, breathing heavily. “It can never be too late for us. I want you. Come with me now.” His voice grew louder and we were attracting curious stares from the other guests.
“Damn you, Max. I said no.”
He wrapped his hand tightly around my arm. “It would be different this time, Deirdre. I wouldn’t leave you. We could be together . . .”
He was interrupted by another hand laid roughly on his arm, prying his grasp away from me.
“I think she said no, Hunter. You can proceed at the risk of harassment charges. The choice is yours.”
Max gave a low laugh. “Ah, Detective Greer, I believe.” He gave Mitch a quick, contemptuous glance and then looked back at me. He said, whispering so that I only could hear, “I congratulate you. Such a quick worker. The bodies are scarcely cold and already you have a staunch supporter on the force. I see that my concern for your naivete was needless.” Once again his face became expressionless and inscrutable and his voice was pitched normally. “Forgive me, my dear, for my forcefulness. I’m afraid I may have had too much wine. Good night.”
He quickly kissed my cheek, nodded to Mitch and walked out the door. Mitch and I stood in a small circle of silence separated from the noise and laughter of the reception. “Thank you.” I spoke quietly so as not to break the spell and lifted my hand to caress his cheek. He pulled it to him and kissed the palm.
“I hate that son of a bitch.” His vehement comment was so out of place with his gentle gesture that I had to laugh. He looked at me questioningly.
“I could have handled him, but it would have been uglier and taken longer. Thank you again.” I linked my arm in his and led him to the refreshments. “Would you like a glass of wine?” I asked, taking one for myself. He helped himself to a glass and a small plate of hors d’oeuvres.
“No dinner,” he confessed sheepishly. “You look wonderful.”
“Thank you. So do you.” He looked elegant and only slightly out of context in his tuxedo.
He shrugged. “I figured fancy dress was required, so I rented this. Unfortunately, I was held up and got here too late to see the show. How’d you do?”
“Fine, thank you. It seems to have been a success.” I smiled up at him warmly. I was so glad to see him that even this stilted conversation seemed wonderful. “I missed you, Mitch.”
He seemed distant, distracted. “What? Oh, I missed you too.” He looked around at the thinning crowd. “Look, I know I just got here, but it seems the party is breaking up. Could we go somewhere else?”
“I don’t see why not. I want to have a talk with Gwen before we go, though. It should only take a few minutes.”
“Your secretary?”
“Yes, you remember her. You met her last week.”
“Yeah, I know her. She was on her way out when I came in. I said hello but she seemed to be in a hurry.”
I felt alarmed by this hasty departure. Gwen usually stayed until everyone had gone home. “Was she alone?”
He nodded. “She was when I saw her.”
“Good, then she will be safe.” He looked at me sharply but I offered no explanation. “Where would you like to go?”
“Anyplace other than here,” he stated flatly. “Although it’s a waste of a rented tux, I’d like to have some privacy.” He looked deeply into my eyes and smiled for the first time this evening. I hoped that this signified an evening of more than conversation.
“Fine, I’ll go get my coat. I won’t be too long.”
By the time I reached the dressing areas, most of the models had gone. Only a few remained, removing their makeup. I was pleased to see that one of these was Janie. I congratulated her on her performance, then inquired after Gwen. “Did she tell you why she left in such a hurry?”
Janie thought for a moment then answered. “I think she was upset about something you had said, and something, someone, I think she said his name was Max, had told her. She said she needed to get away and do some serious thinking. I reminded her of our party later on, but she said she couldn’t come.”
“Did she leave with anyone?”
“No, I don’t think so. She said that the crowd was bothering her and she wanted to be alone. She didn’t seem herself, though. We’re all a little worried about her.” She looked at me for reassurance.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Janie. She’s been having some trouble with Nick, you know.” She nodded in agreement. “Thank you. And have a good time at the party tonight.”
“Would you like to come, Miss Griffin? You’d be welcome.” She looked at me slyly. “After all, we’re going to send you the bill.”
I smiled at her. “No, I don’t think this time. I have other plans, but thank you.” With a final goodbye I walked out of the room.
I found Mitch at the food table filling another plate. “Sorry I took so long, Mitch, but I see you made good use of the time.”
“These are really good, you should have some.”
I laughed at his suggestion. “No, thank you, I have to watch what I eat.” I reached for his free hand and held it. “Would you like to go now, or maybe you’d rather stay here and eat?”
He looked intently at the plate and then at me as if deciding between us. “No,” he said in his deliberate fashion giving me the slow smile that made my pulse race. “On second thought, these aren’t all that good.” Setting the plate back on the table, he took my cape from my arm and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Come on.”
As we came through the hotel door, the limo driver jumped out and opened the door. Mitch looked at me in surprise.
“Well,” I said, “if you would rather drive, we could send him back.”
“Actually, I had to walk here tonight, that’s one of the reasons why I came so late. My car is in the shop. I saw the limo when I came in so I assumed it belonged to someone rich and famous.”
I gave him a contented smile. “I am, at least for now. Get in.”
As we got settled, the driver turned around inquiringly and I glanced over at Mitch. “Would you like to drive around for a while?”
He shook his head. “We should, I guess. I mean, here I am, dressed for the part, with a woman like you, in a car like this, but . . .”
“I’m entirely in your hands, Detective,” I teased as I curled up next to him. “Whatever you’d like is fine with me.”
“I’ll remember that,” he replied with a suggestive smile, then leaned forward and gave the driver his address.