Part 11 (1/2)
”Pardon us,” Barney said at last. ”Dreadfully rude, I know, but now Im living in Vancouver I so rarely get the chance to practice my French, I simply couldnt resist.”
It wasnt as if anyone else at the table had anything to talk about. Eliza and Barney expressed their sympathies to Jack Wyatt-Yarmouth.
He thanked them.
Barney asked when theyd be going home.
That was a mistake.
”We should have been out of here tomorrow,” he snarled. ”But the police are saying they need to keep Jason for a while longer. Let me tell you, I put in a call to the Chief of Police PDQ. I wont have some two-bit, hick town cop sticking his nose into my sons death and trying to score points by making a tragic car accident out to be something out of an episode of CSI.”
”Elizas husband...” Barney began.
Eliza silenced her with a look.
”Please, dear.” Patricia said, her voice low and calm. ”People are looking.”
And they were. Chairs might have scratched the golden hardwood floor as diners at adjoining tables tried to eavesdrop without appearing to be rude.
The young people s.h.i.+fted in their seats. Wendy, the daughter, bristled with anger. She opened her mouth to say something. And it would not have been polite.
Eliza gathered her bag from the back of her chair and reached into a front pocket. ”I think it best if we dont interfere in your evening.” She got to her feet. Barney scrambled to follow. ”Thank you for the champagne. It was a pleasure to meet you, Jack. My condolences again.” She touched Patricia on the shoulder and slipped her card into the womans hand. A bit pretentious, having a calling card in a town like Trafalgar. She rarely used them any more, and only for business. But she didnt want to take the time to scramble for paper and pen. ”If youre going to be here for a few days, perhaps we can have lunch, or another day at the spa. That would be fun. Call me, if youre free.”
Patricia Wyatt-Yarmouth smiled at Eliza. ”Thank you,” she whispered.
The waitress hovered to take their order.
”Is the salmon dry?” Sophie asked.
Eliza and Barney turned toward their table, only to find that it had been given to another party in the interim. They turned again, back toward the hostess table.
”Having a nice family dinner, are you?”
Eliza blinked. ”Im sorry?”
The girl didnt look much older than fifteen. She was dressed in a patched winter coat and a long scarf full of holes. Black mascara ran down her cheeks, mixed with melting snow or tears, it was impossible to tell.
Incongruously, she wore a small pair of, if Elizas judgment hadnt completely failed her, 14-carat gold hoop earrings.
”Thought you could have your dinner without me, did you? Well Im here, and Im in mourning too, not that any you gives a f.u.c.k. But Im going to tell you one thing, Mrs. Wyatt-Yarmouth...”
”Im afraid youve made a mistake,” Eliza said.
The patrons were no longer trying not to appear to be eavesdropping. The dining room was so silent that noise from the kitchen, clattering crockery, shouted orders, someone bellowing for carrots, G.o.dd.a.m.n it, could be heard.
The head waiter hurried over, wiping his hands on his white ap.r.o.n. ”Is there a problem?”
”Apparently there is.” Jack Wyatt-Yarmouth was on his feet. ”Now I dont know who you are, girl, but Id suggest that you leave.”
”Sit down, Jack,” Patricia said in quiet voice, ”and shut up. If you are looking for Mrs. Wyatt-Yarmouth, I am she.”
”Oh, you are she, are you,” the girl took a step toward the table. She faltered and Eliza reached out a hand to steady her. The girl shrugged her off. Her breath was rancid with the sour scent of beer. ”Well, Im an even better she.”
”Lorraine, get out of here.” Wendys chair sounded like a gun shot as it crashed to the floor behind her. ”This is a private dinner and you havent been invited.”
The girl, Lorraine, turned toward Wendy. ”You think I dont know that, you stuck-up rich b.i.t.c.h.” She dropped into the chair recently vacated by Eliza. ”Ive as much right to be here as he does.” She pointed at Jeremy. ”More.” She bared her teeth at Patricia. ”Im Jasons girlfriend, see. We were going to be engaged but before that could happen he...then he...died.” She burst into tears.
The head waiter stood beside her, not at all sure of what to do.
Eliza glanced at Patricia. All the blood had drained from the womans face, leaving it stark white. She might have been a ghost, except for the red in her eyes.
Lorraine picked up a menu. ”Im going to have dinner. Dinner with the family what shoulda been my in-laws. Whats the most expensive thing?”
”As you appear to know this person,” Jack yelled at his daughter, ”do something.” He had resumed his seat at Patricias order.
Wendy tugged ineffectually at the sleeve of Lorraines heavy coat.
”Shall we go to the powder room, Patricia?” Eliza placed her hand on her friends shoulder.
Patricia didnt move.
”What a good idea,” Barney said. ”What do you think youre you looking at, buddy?
The man at the next table began sawing at his steak.
A man ran into the dining room, shedding snow, looking around him as if he quite desperately needed to find something hed lost. A waitress tried to stop him, but he stepped around her. He walked to the table that was the centre of the room, figuratively as well as literally.
Elizas hand was on Patricias arm, guiding the woman to standing. Her legs wobbled and Eliza gripped harder. Barney took the other arm.
”Come on, Lorraine. Lets go home,” the new arrival said. The girl reached across the table and grabbed Patricias unfinished gla.s.s of champagne. The man plucked it from her fingers. ”Lets go.”
The head waiter signaled to the hostess, who picked up the phone.
”I havent ordered my dinner,” Lorraine said.
”Ill take you to dinner. Anyplace you like.”
”I want to have dinner here.” Lorraines eyes were red and puffy and her nose ran. She swallowed a sob, and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her coat.
”Please come with me.”
The girl looked around. Her eyes fastened on Eliza, who was handing Patricia to Barney.
”Tell them I belong here,” she said, her voice a weak whisper.
Barney half-dragged Patricia Wyatt-Yarmouth toward the back.