EIGHTY-THREE

“YOU did what?!” Tessa seemed as shocked as I was.

“Take it easy,” Nora quickly replied. “She and Harlan were estranged at the time, living completely separate lives. He and I were seated next to each other at some charity dinner. We were laughing it up over something or other, and I said to myself, ‘What the heck? I’ve never slept with a randy munchkin before!’”

Nora’s laugh shook half the room. She paused long enough to take a second swig of her cocktail, and Tessa shook her head.

“No wonder Aunt Annette was annoyed with me when I told her about taking you on as a partner. She refused to say why, but she was livid.”

“Hey, it’s not like I was the only one of Annette’s friends Harlan screwed. Instead of holding a grudge against me, Annette should have looked closer to home—and family.”

Now even Mr. Dante was shocked. He and I exchanged a silent glance. Holy cow, I thought, in martini veritas!

This time, Tessa didn’t appear shocked by Nora’s words, as much as curious. “What exactly are you referring to? Who in my family slept with Harlan?”

Like the amps in This Is Spinal Tap, Nora’s volume was permanently set on eleven. So when she spoke “quietly” to Tessa, I could still hear her.

“When your aunt Victoria fled to Vienna, she claimed she was pursuing a career in classical music. But the real reason she left was because she wasn’t so thin, if you know what I mean.”

Tessa grimaced. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That I’ve got some long-lost cousin, adopted by some unknown Viennese couple?”

“You probably do. I mean, if Victoria wanted to get rid of the baby bump, she didn’t have to go all the way to Vienna to do it. My money is on the adoption. Anyway, I heard that after she moved back to the States, Victoria took up with Harlan again. And this wasn’t some fling, either, like it was years ago—before he went after Annette. He and Vickie supposedly had some love nest, right here in the city, for her secret visits.”

The waitress delivered yet another martini and Nora went back to downing it in two gulps.

As a busy busboy cleaned up the broken glass, Nora moved on to rather mean-spirited gossip about other members of the Gotham Ladies. Before long, she went from inebriated to incoherent. The Golden Girl was as drunk as a skunk!

The waitress noticed and approached Tessa. “Should I call a car?”

The CEO shook her head. “Let’s get Ms. Arany a room.”

The waitress returned with confirmation, and with help from the bearded bartender, Nora was soon on her feet and moving again.

“I need to lie down!” she announced to the restaurant.

“We’ve got a bed for you, Nora,” Tessa said. “You can rest as long as you like.”

After the fashion designer was escorted out, making an unsubtle pass at the “handsome boy” bartender as she went, I expected Tessa to leave, too. Instead, she sat down and pulled a phone from her bag.

“Do you want me to introduce you to Tessa now?” Mr. Dante whispered.

Before I could answer, the restaurant’s hostess approached Tessa’s table.

“Toby Mullins is here,” she said. “He says he has an appointment to see you.”

Tessa nodded. “Bring him over.”

A minute later, a familiar tweedy brown sport coat appeared in the mirror above the bar, and I nearly choked on my Daisy Fay. At last, I knew the identity of that mystery man at the hospital, the bald guy with the mustache who tried to follow me when I bolted for the elevator.

His name was Toby Mullins.

And it appeared Tessa Simmons knew him, too.