Part 12 (1/2)
”This Roger Talbot, the publisher who couldn't make it tonight,” Burt was saying. ”He's the one whose wife died?”
”Yes.”
”Poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d.” He stared into his brandy. ”Still, there are worse things.”
I kept tactfully silent. Elizabeth's mother, Monica, had also recently departed from her marriage. But instead of heading for heaven, she had gone straight into the arms of Burt's private Norwegian tennis coach. The specter of Monica and Lars attending the wedding had raised some very sticky seating questions.
Now, however, it appeared that a killer backhand might come to the rescue. Lars was slas.h.i.+ng his way through the semifinals of a tournament in Connecticut, and if he made it to the finals, Monica would fly in solo for the wedding. That would be uncomfortable enough, but nothing compared to putting Lars and Burt in the same building. This interactive rock-and-roll museum ain't big enough for the both of us, you ornery sidewinder.
Joe Solveto, a major tennis buff, was keeping me posted on the tournament results. Elizabeth seemed to find the whole thing mildly amusing.
”And who's the kid again?” asked Burt. ”I didn't catch all the names.”
”That's Zack Hartmann. He's been working at the Sentinel.”
”Something funny about that kid. Won't look me in the eye.”
I was saved from replying by Aaron's approach. Corinne had disappeared, presumably to the ladies' room, but since she didn't seem to be drinking tonight, I wasn't worried about a repeat of last Sat.u.r.day. Aaron held out his hand.
”Mr. Lamott, may I steal the lady from you? They're playing her song.” The combo had begun ”Lady in Red,” and I was wearing my best dress-a deep clear red with a full, fluid skirt.
”Be my guest,” the tyc.o.o.n replied, knocking back his brandy. ”I'll just chat with Karen when she gets back. Seems like a nice young lady.”
”It's Corinne,” I told him. ”Yes, she's very nice.”
As he escorted me out to the foyer, Aaron murmured, ”Gorgeous as you are, Ms. Kincaid, I have decided not to make pa.s.sionate love to you on top of the piano. But it was a near-run thing.”
That's how he was handling my need for breathing s.p.a.ce in our relations.h.i.+p: with patience and a laugh. Some men I knew would have dropped me at the nearest corner and never looked back.
”You're being so nice about this,” I said.
”A man will do anything,” he replied in a confidential whisper, ”if he thinks it's foreplay”
We circled among the other couples, many of them from a family reunion being held in one of the larger dining rooms. As our own room came back into view, I saw Burt talking intently to Corinne, and Paul's parents coming out to the foyer to dance. Howard had tucked an orchid behind Chloe's ear, and she was smiling like a bride. How nice to know little, and care less, about Mercedes Montoya.
”So what's the word from the costume shop?” asked Aaron.
”Nothing yet. Apparently Characters, Inc. always closes down for a week after Halloween, to give the owners and the staff a break. I keep leaving messages, but I don't know when I'll hear back, and the owner's home number is unlisted. I bet we could put together the list of black cloaks from memory, though.”
Aaron nodded. ”You know, I'm beginning to come around to your view of Corinne's story. She's trying to cover it up, but she's really frightened.”
”So can we get together tomorrow and go over the guest list?”
”I'll come by early and take you out to breakfast.”
”Sounds good. Oh, no-” As the song ended I saw Zack approaching, his jaw set in grim resolution. ”Aaron, be a prince and fend off Zack, would you? I'm just not up to conversations about the Internet tonight.”
He turned. ”Zack, my man! Come have some brandy with me on the terrace. I need a smoke.”
I cut through the dancers to the concierge desk, just to let them know how well our evening was going. An unnecessary errand, but it would save me a phone call tomorrow, and I really was pleased with the Salish Lodge. If the Buckmeisters started to dither again about their rehearsal dinner, maybe I'd bring them here.
”Message just came for you, Ms. Kincaid,” said the bright young man at the desk. ”I haven't even had time to write it down yet.”
”From Joe Solveto?” I'd accidentally left my cell phone at home, and felt naked without it.
”Yes. He said Lars Kvern won in straight sets, and you'd know what that meant.”
”Oh, thank G.o.d! You just made my night.” I paid my compliments to the chef and the lodge, and returned to my party.
Howard and Chloe were still dancing, and Zack and Aaron were out on the terrace with the French doors shut, but most of the other guests were nowhere to be seen. Valerie Duncan, still ensconced by the fire, told me why.
”It seems that Burt Lamott simply had to see the Falls, so they've all gone trooping across the parking lot to that viewpoint pavilion farther along the canyon. He must think the fog is going to lift and the Falls are going to light up, just for the VIP. I decided to stay here and stay warm.”
”Very wise,” I said. ”But I'd better get out there and make sure no one goes astray.”
”Carnegie, before you go-”
She looked so grave that I sat down beside her.
”What is it, Valerie?”
”Why didn't Roger come tonight? It's because of Mercedes, isn't it?”
Oh, h.e.l.l. ”I, um, couldn't say.”
”You don't have to. Your face is too honest.” She sat back and sighed, fingering the fringe on her challis shawl. ”I always wondered if they were lovers. Roger's terribly discreet with all his women, paranoid, really, so there was never a sign. But she was so beautiful. And young. I'm not young anymore.”
”Valerie, I shouldn't be discussing this.”
She seemed not to hear me. There were two snifters on the table beside her, one of them already empty. She reached for the other, with a hand that was blunt and mottled, not slim and brown like Mercedes'. She drained the brandy. ”He's been completely cold to me since we... since he... He can make you feel so cherished, and then be so cruel.”
”I'm afraid I can't really follow what you're saying,” I said neutrally. ”There's so much noise from the dancing. I'm going to go check on the others.”
It was the best I could think of, to save her dignity later. I grabbed my coat and left. Outside in the dank, chilly night, guests from the lodge were coming and going in the parking lot, and pale bands of headlights crisscrossed against the blanketing fog. As I strode along the walkway towards the pavilion, the sound of voices dropped away abruptly, m.u.f.fled by the fog and then lost in the roar of Snoqualmie Falls, which thundered and raged like an invisible beast in the gorge below.
After a few minutes, coc.o.o.ned in a strange isolation of sight and sound, I began to make out dim figures coming toward me, barely discernible in the swirling darkness. Burt was coming back, his arm around Corinne's shoulders, and the rest of the party seemed to be following.
Small talk suddenly seemed like too much effort. On impulse, I stepped off the walkway among the parked cars, far enough to lose the others from sight. I needed time to think. If Roger Talbot was juggling multiple affairs, maybe Mercedes had become inconvenient. But inconvenient enough to murder? Why not just set her aside, as he'd done with Valerie? Anyway, Corinne insisted that the killer had a cloak, not a topcoat.
Their voices faded quickly, leaving only the white noise of the Falls. I went ahead to the pavilion, a small concrete platform circled by railings that hung out over the gorge. It was empty, save for a brandy snifter on one of the benches. Cold white beams from the ceiling lights fanned out through the pillars and rails, laying crosshatched shadows onto the pale walls of mist. I crossed to the far side and peered out, but of course the Falls were invisible. As I stood there, I quit brooding over Valerie's remarks and lost myself in the cras.h.i.+ng roar of the waterfall. It reminded me of the otter's little waterfall at the Aquarium, back before this dreadful thing had happened- ”Carnegie.”
”Oh! Zack, you scared me.”
”I'm sorry. You keep avoiding me, but I, like, really have to talk to you. I'm going crazy about this.”
”About what, Zack?” It was utterly private here; we could have been miles from the lodge. Might as well get it over with.