“Must be weird to represent somebody you don’t trust,” Delphi said, leaning against the bar.
“Don’t defense attorneys do that all the time? I think you never ask your client whether or not he’s guilty.” Isobel smacked her lips over the last of her wine. “Better not to know.”
“Want another?” Delphi indicated the empty glass.
“Free?”
Delphi glanced over her shoulder, scanning the dark interior of Vino Rosso, where she waited tables. The maître d’ was nowhere in sight.
“Carlo’s only good for one freebie, and that’s just because he still thinks you don’t like him and he’s trying to win you over. But you can use my employee discount.”
Isobel tilted her glass. “Hit me.”
Delphi retreated behind the bar and poured a generous refill. She took a sip and handed the glass to Isobel. “What does Sarah think Candy is lying about?”
“She didn’t specify, but I’m guessing she thinks Candy has some idea who sent the threatening letter. And that there’s more to her being invited to his dinner.”
“Considering what a jerk this guy was, they probably had to beat the bushes for guests.”
Isobel sipped her wine thoughtfully. “Then they did a good job. There were easily two hundred people there, wouldn’t you say?”
“At least,” Delphi agreed. “And one of them came armed.”
“I wonder…”
Delphi grimaced. “Two of my least favorite words in the English language when you say them.”
“What if the person who killed him didn’t actually pull the trigger?”
Delphi looked puzzled, but then understanding dawned. “You think someone put out a hit?”
“Think about it.” Isobel leaned forward on the bar. “The people who had the most significant relationships with him were all seated at his table. Aren’t the people most likely to kill you the ones you’re closest to?”
“Yeah, so watch out!”
Isobel ignored her. “None of them could have pulled the trigger, because they were all in full view of the room. I was standing right there, and everyone was looking at me. It would have been impossible for anyone at the table to have pointed a gun at the judge without being seen. But any one of them could have hired someone else to do the deed.”
“Actually, that makes more sense than anything else you’ve come up with.” Delphi came around from behind the bar and pulled a stack of customer checks from her apron. “Only a professional could have gotten away with a shot that precise in a room full of people.” She waved a check. “Hang on. I’ve got to take a dessert order.”
Isobel continued to ponder this idea, which had first come to her on the way to Vino Rosso. Now, as she nibbled enough bar snacks to stand in for dinner, she had another thought. One person important enough to sit at the judge’s table did, conceivably, have the opportunity to kill him, not to mention a cracking good motive. But who the hell was this Angelina Rivington?
Isobel put her hand to her forehead. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered, pulling out her phone.
“Delphinia bellissima would never be friends with an idiot!”
Isobel jumped and caught her hand to her chest. She turned and glared at Carlo Alessandrini, maître d’ of Vino Rosso and Delphi’s effusive admirer. “It’s rude to sneak up on people.”
He gestured to the bar. “It’s rude to take a second glass free when nobody has offered.”
Isobel cupped her wine protectively. “I’m paying for this one, don’t worry.”
“Perhaps you are an idiota, then,” Carlo said, his eyes twinkling. “All you needed to do was ask. Serving you is my pleasure.”
Isobel was not in the mood to banter with Carlo, but it was hard to turn down a free drink. She dropped her phone in her lap. “Well, thank you then. I accept.”
“But perhaps you will give me some information in return?”
Isobel sighed. “No such thing as a free drink, I guess.”
Carlo gave a disingenuous shrug. “I do not ask for much.”
“Fine. What?”
Carlo perched on the stool next to Isobel and ran a hand over his slick, black hair. “The handsome dark stranger you say Delphi does not love. They are over, yes? I have not seen him here in a long time.”
Isobel tried not to snort wine as she suppressed a laugh. He was referring to their friend Sunil Kapany, possessor of a gorgeous tenor voice and as-yet-unrequited romantic feelings for Delphi. Isobel, offended by Carlo’s obviously insincere attentions to her roommate, had planted the idea that Delphi was dating Sunil. Delphi, annoyed at Isobel for meddling, had done her best to disabuse Carlo of the notion, but the seed of jealousy was too far beneath the soil to be extracted. Isobel was still atoning by doing her best to undo the damage.
“I’ve told you, Delphi and Sunil are just friends. He’s out of town doing a show. That’s why you haven’t seen him.”
“Good Lord, are you still harping on Sunil?” Delphi said from behind Carlo.
Startled, he whirled around, and Isobel gave a smug smile. “See why sneaking up on someone is a bad idea? Karma.”
“You know my passionate Italian temperament runs to jealousy,” Carlo said, flashing Isobel a dirty look.
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Delphi said. “Be jealous all you like. Sunil and I are just friends. Like Isobel said.”
Carlo muttered under his breath in Italian and glided across the restaurant to greet a party of four that had just entered.
“I didn’t tell him my latest theory about you and Sunil,” Isobel said.
“Don’t tell me either,” Delphi retorted.
Isobel retrieved her phone and connected to the internet. “Sorry. I was annoyed because he interrupted me just as I was about to look up…”
“Look up what? I hate when you don’t finish your sentences.”
“Angelina Rivington,” Isobel read aloud. “President of Rivington Properties.”
“His realtor?”
“I don’t think so. It looks like she runs a commercial real estate company in New Jersey.” Isobel glanced up. “I wonder what they were to each other that he would leave her a third of his estate.”
Delphi pulled a wad of bills from her apron and began to count her tips. “Maybe they were close friends. Does it really matter?”
“And why didn’t she show up for his celebration?”
“Shit happens. I’m sure there are real estate investment emergencies. Or maybe she had a sick kid.”
“It’s just that she’s in a unique position, if you think about it. Close enough to the judge that she benefits from his death. Supposed to be there, but wasn’t. Or,” Isobel added meaningfully, “there, but nobody saw her.”
Delphi leaned over to get a better look. “Is there a photo?”
Isobel clicked on a link, bringing up a headshot of an angularly attractive woman with jet-black hair pulled into a tight bun. She was smiling, but Isobel sensed that the expression took some effort.
“Look familiar?” Delphi asked.
“Not to me. You?”
Delphi shook her head. “Think you’d have noticed her watching our rehearsal?”
Isobel scrutinized the photo. Angelina Rivington was certainly striking. “Yeah, probably. She’d be hard to miss.”
Delphi folded her bills neatly. “Did you ever think that maybe the judge wasn’t the intended target?”
“Why wouldn’t he be? We’ve established that he’s the sort of person who made enemies. It’s not like he’s some kindly old gent who got caught in the crossfire.”
Delphi shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just thinking more about the shot. What if it was good—but not that good?”
“We don’t know anything about any of the others that suggests it should have been one of them.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not possible,” Delphi said.
“Here’s something else that’s possible.” Isobel pocketed her phone and hopped off the barstool. “You didn’t do it, and I didn’t do it. But someone in our little murder mystery skit might be an actual murderer.”