The main room had filled up quite a bit. People were laughing, shaking hands, clapping each other on the back as the ladies kissed cheeks and admired one another’s outfits.
“When in Rome,” Amelia muttered and walked slowly to the bar. “Can I get a Coke?”
The handsome young bartender smiled and nodded before disappearing for just a second to the other end of the bar.
“Starting off slow. That’s a good idea.” An older gentleman Amelia had seen already at the bar when she emerged from the kitchen spoke to her. “These things can get crazy once the photographers leave.” He winked.
“You sound like you’ve been to quite a few of these.” Amelia smiled as the man rolled his eyes. They had bags beneath them, and his jowls were loose, shaking when he spoke.
“The name is Roland Merriweather.”
“Hi, Roland. Amelia Harley.” She reached out and shook his hand.
“Miss Harley, where is your date for the evening? A pretty girl like yourself shouldn’t be swimming alone in such shark-infested waters.”
“Really?” Amelia couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. “My boyfriend has to work.” That was the truth. “He’s a police detective.”
“Oh yes? What’s his name? My brother is a retired police commissioner.”
“Dan Walishovski. He’s been on the department for several years. Maybe they know each other.”
“I’ll run it past him. Isn’t it funny how every day we see what a small world it is?” Roland said.
“Sometimes it feels that way. But I’ll tell you what, Roland. In a million years, I never would have seen myself at an event like this.”
“Why do you say that? You look like you fit right in.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Well played, Miss Harley.”
The bartender returned with her Coke. She was happy to take a long sip of the cold drink.
“What are you drinking?” she asked Roland as he gulped down the last of a brown liquid.
“Can you keep a secret?”
Amelia smirked but nodded her head yes.
“Iced tea.”
“I don’t believe you. Long Island iced tea, maybe.”
“Nope. Pure old-fashioned iced tea.”
“Why are you being so sneaky about it?”
“When you’ve been around these people as long as I have, you learn to keep your wits about you.” He tapped the rim of his glass and nodded to the bartender. Sure enough, in the smoothest, most secretive manner, the bartender poured Roland a glass of iced tea, dropped a cherry in it, and served it up. For that little maneuver, he received a ten-dollar tip.
“Well, I’m very impressed, Roland. Since you shared a secret with me, I’ll share one with you.”
Roland Merriweather leaned a little closer to Amelia so she could speak quietly into his ear.
“A culinary mystic? And they believed you?”
“So far so good.”
He roared with laughter, making Amelia laugh, too.
“That is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard in years, Miss Harley. Well, let the games begin.” He raised his glass to Amelia, who happily clinked hers against it.
For almost half an hour, Amelia sat with Roland at the bar while he told her who everyone was.
“That woman over there is married to a plastic surgeon who has probably seen half the women in this place naked,” Roland said dryly. “Specializes in breast augmentations.”
Amelia chuckled.
“You see that man over there? He owns a port-o-john company. One of the wealthiest men in here. And he deals in excrement.”
“We all do to a certain degree.” Amelia smiled.
“Yes. But then we have those rare opportunities to meet someone of like mind, and all of that fades away.”
“You didn’t tell me why you are alone, Roland.”
A shadow fell over the man’s face, but he never stopped smiling.
“I was married to a wonderful woman for over twenty years. Then I divorced her and married a monster.” He chuckled sadly. “My first wife died about seven years ago. Before she did, I went to see her, and she told me to straighten up. It was her dying request. So I did.”
“I’m so sorry, Roland. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t, Amelia.” He patted her hand. “Her name was Patty. You remind me of her in some way. She didn’t fit in at places like this. That was what made her so charming. A treasure I didn’t know I had.”
“That happens sometimes. But, like I tell my kids, when we learn a lesson, it doesn’t matter when so long as we learned.”
“They are lucky to have such a good mother.”
Amelia waved her hand and blushed.
“So, I quit drinking. I divorced my second wife. Got myself back into church. But you see, I never told anyone about my awakening. The last thing I want is a bunch of these hypocrites telling me how good it is I don’t drink while they are sloshing down a few right in front of me. So I pretend.”
Amelia tilted her head.
“I pretend I’m still one of them. And they still invite me to their galas and events, and if I like it, I’ll give a donation. But this event tonight? Not a penny.”
“Geez, Roland. I don’t even know what this event is for. It was just someone’s name on the promotion I saw.” Amelia shrugged.
“This is the Alba and Reese Finkle Gala.”
“Thanks for clearing it up for me. Now I feel better.” Amelia made Roland laugh.
“They had some crusade to help schoolchildren give up sweets.”
“You’re joking,” Amelia said.
“No. Busybody work is what I call it.”
“And in the real world, I own a cupcake truck on Food Truck Alley.” Amelia giggled.
“You don’t say.”
She nodded proudly.
“Well, now I know that you are really crashing the party. Anyone in the dessert business wouldn’t be caught dead in this place.”
“To be honest with you, Roland, someone was caught dead, and that is why I’m here looking for someone in particular.” Amelia watched the man’s expression.
“I’m intrigued.”
Amelia told Roland what her friend Bonnie had repeated to her and named names.
“That bloke finally got his comeuppance. I know both ladies you are referring to, and I know of the infamous Spencer Randall. A turd in the punchbowl if ever there was one.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” Amelia joked. “Do you think either Candace or Florence might have been upset enough with him to, you know, do him in?”
“I think both ladies are fully capable of dealing the deadly blow. But I’m afraid it might not be as simple as that. Spencer made no secret of his weakness for the fairer sex. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the ladies in this room didn’t have a spare toothbrush set aside for him in their homes.”
“Yikes, Roland. I don’t have that kind of time.”
“You are right, and forgive me for speculating. It’s just that a murder makes this event so much more interesting. Let’s stick with the names you have. First, Candace Rosenbaum.” Roland searched the crowd for a few seconds then nodded his head in the direction of the center table. “She’s right over there, speaking with Doogan Heis. A rather boring little man.”
“Okay. Wish me luck. I’m going in.”
“Good luck. I’ll save your seat.”
Amelia took a deep breath and carefully eased her way through the people seated at the tables and those mingling around with glasses in their hands and clever quips on their tongues. Finally, she reached Candace. Casually, she hung back for a few seconds until the conversation came to a pause.
“Excuse me, Miss Rosenbaum.” Amelia smiled pleasantly.
“Yes?” Candace’s face looked a little different in real life than it did in all the magazines. Where Amelia had thought she looked rather ageless in the photos, there was an obvious layer of thick makeup doing its best to conceal some discolorations due to the sun and the natural dark shadows that collect underneath the eyes.
Yet there was no denying that diamond earrings did wonders for the complexion. Amelia introduced herself, going along with the ruse that she had somehow channeled Julia Child to ensure every morsel was a culinary delight.
“How fascinating,” Candace gushed. “I may have to hire you for my next dinner party.”
“That’s very kind of you. As it turns out, I have done dinner parties before and was actually at the home of an acquaintance of yours.”
“Really?”
“Bonnie Paffenberger. She said you’ve known each other for some time.” Amelia watched as Candace’s face became grave and stonelike. “Did I say something wrong?”
“I know Bonnie. She was an acquaintance of a man-friend of mine. You probably know him. You would be hard pressed to find a woman at this event who didn’t.” She stepped back and looked Amelia up and down. “You fit his profile. You’re a woman.” Candace chuckled then cleared her throat.
“Are you referring to Spencer Randall?” Amelia replied.
“The one and only.” Candace grabbed a flute of champagne from a tall thin fellow in a tuxedo, who was balancing at least six more glasses on a silver platter as he passed by. Amelia watched her take a deep gulp. “Let me guess. He took you for a ride, too? I hope you set him up with his own bank account instead of linking him to yours. I heard some love-struck kitten gave in to true love and it ended up costing her her life savings.” She took another gulp.
“I’m not sure if you are aware, but he turned up dead yesterday.” Amelia watched as Candace looked sideways and then took another sip.
“How did he die?” She looked off into the distance and fidgeted with the rings on her fingers. Amelia noticed two Band-Aids on her right hand between the thumb and first finger.
“Beaten with a pipe. Or maybe it was a bat. I can’t remember,” Amelia said.
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” Candace nodded as if she already knew this fact. “He didn’t really know how to make friends or influence people.” She chuckled nervously.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Amelia stood still as Candace suddenly glared at her.
“You sure do ask a lot of questions. Why do you want to know?”
“I went to high school with the guy.” Amelia shrugged innocently. “I’m curious to know how the class flirt ended up dead. That’s not so hard to believe, is it?”
“If it were anyone but Spencer Randall, maybe. But we are talking about a world-class lover,” Candace said frankly. “I wasn’t the only one. Your chum Bonnie wasn’t either. I can’t speak for her, but I didn’t have anything to do with his death. If I were you and really wanted to find out what happened to your old high school sweetheart, I’d check in the closets of some of the guests here. Especially those who are conspicuous by their absence.”
“Anyone in particular?” Amelia asked, ignoring the crack about Spencer being her boyfriend.
“Florence Carmichael,” Candace whispered. Her face had become gravely serious, and she appeared to age almost a decade right in front of Amelia. “She was always sloppy. I’m sure she’s left everything but a urine sample at the scene of the crime.”
“What makes you think she had something to do with it?”
“We were in the same prep school. If any girl developed an eating disorder or started pulling out their hair, you can bet one of the first questions the counselors asked was did the girl have any contact with Florence Carmichael.”
“She was that destructive?” Amelia asked.
“Was? She still is.” Candace looked pleased with spreading this particular bit of information. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to mingle with my friends who were invited to this event as guests… not as staff.”
With a whoosh, she turned and stomped away from Amelia in the direction of a group of seven people. They all cheered as she approached, and she smiled elegantly as if she had passed right through Amelia.
Amelia turned back to the bar and spotted Roland watching with wide eyes.
“That looked like one of the more pleasant exchanges with Candace Rosenbaum.” He chuckled nervously. “Did it help you at all?”
“Well, I can’t say she didn’t act suspicious. But I find people with money almost always act that way.” Amelia clicked her tongue.
“You are absolutely right.” Roland nodded and stroked his chin. “That is a very insightful observation.”
“Thanks.” Amelia looked at her watch. “I’m afraid that I don’t see myself getting any further with any of the other guests. Not now that I upset Princess Candace.”
“You are probably right.”
“I think I am going to call it a night.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay?” Roland urged. “You could see my grand finale as I stagger across the room, spill a drink on that guy with the goatee over there—he’s my financial adviser—and then make my exit.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got to work in the morning.”
“Well, Amelia, thank you for making this event the most exciting one I’ve ever attended.”
“Roland, I would be thrilled if you’d stop by my cupcake truck. The first one is on me.” She handed him a hot pink business card that had a little map on the back showing where the truck was on Food Truck Alley.
“I may just do that,” Roland said as he shook Amelia’s hand pleasantly.
Amelia walked out of the event without anyone noticing her. After hearing Candace’s description of Florence, she was glad the woman hadn’t shown up at the gala. Eating disorders and hair loss were a little scarier than she thought they would be.
“You are looking for a killer, Amelia,” she said out loud as she drove home. “He or she is probably not going to be a loveable, squeezable little fluff ball.”