All You Need Is Fudge (19 page)

I laughed. “You're not supposed to think about anything but relaxing when you're at a spa.”

“Really?” Frances's eyes twinkled. “I wouldn't know.”

“Neither would I,” I admitted. “But I think I read that in a magazine once.”

“Well, I'm certainly willing to find out.”

“Maybe one day, I will, too.” I grabbed my cup and moved up the stairs. A glance over my shoulder told me that Frances was really into her paperwork. I reached for my phone. A quick text to Jenn let her know that Frances was momentarily alone, but would soon be out of the building.

Jenn texted back that operation rooftop was on schedule. She was heading down to ensure Frances didn't head up.

The whole secret event thing was tricky, but I had high hopes that we would pull it off.

“Hi Eleanor,” I said as I knocked on her open office door. “Do you have a minute?”

Frances stood a few steps behind me in the hall.

“Just a minute.” Eleanor looked at me with concern in her gaze. “Things are crazy right now because of tonight's black tie gala.”

I winced at my poor timing. I knew about the gala. I was going, so why didn't I realize that it would mean all hands would be on deck at the club.

“This is Frances Wentworth, my associate,” I introduced her as we entered Eleanor's small office and closed the door. “Eleanor, Jenn Christensen tells me that the McMurphy has been pulled from the approved vendor list for the yacht club.”

“Yes, that's true.” Eleanor folded her hands on her desk.

“Can you tell me why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Was it shoddy work? Was it not delivering our product on time? Did someone get left off the list of yachts that we recreated?”

“No, no, and no,” she said, ticking off the answers on her fingers. She splayed her hands out in front of her on top of the paperwork on her desk. “The truth is, Allie, right now you're a political time bomb. On the one hand, you are the one who pulled my dear friend Carin out of the marina. When people see you or your work, they are immediately reminded of Carin's grisly murder by Paige Jessop. The other is the whole business of you dating Trent Jessop. Some people on the yacht club board think the Jessops should not be allowed in the club at all. Unfortunately, the Jessops are powerful enough that we have to allow them access. The one thing I can do is take you off the approved vendor list and keep you off the volunteer committees.” She frowned. “I take it you are attending tonight.”

“Yes, I am.” I folded my hands over my chest.

“I wish you wouldn't.”

“There's no reason why she shouldn't,” Frances said.

“Of course she shouldn't and neither should any of the Jessops,” Eleanor said. “Please, this night is about the end of another successful week of the grand yacht race. People should be celebrating the winners and teasing the losers. They paid five hundred dollars a ticket to see the trophy given out and to help raise awareness for this year's charity. If you go, it will put a damper on the entire night. All anyone will talk about is poor Carin and the audacity of the Jessops to attend when everyone knows Paige killed her.”

“The last time I checked, people were innocent until proven guilty,” I pointed out.

Eleanor stood. “It's not about whether Paige is guilty or innocent. It's about how she will put a damper on one of the biggest occasions of the year. I have put far too much work and time into this year's race week to have it ruined by Paige Jessop . . . or you, for that matter.”

“Wow.” I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay. Good to know how you feel.”

“Does this mean you won't come tonight?”

I shook my head. “No. I'll be here.”

“Really? Seriously? You can't skip it for my sake? Or even the Moores' sake?”

“Eleanor,” Frances said. “You know as well as I do that if the Jessops don't come tonight, half the board will be relieved and the other half will be looking for someone to blame. The Jessops are huge fund-raisers for the club.”

“Yes, well, sometimes it's not about money,” Eleanor said sharply.

“What is it about?” I asked.

“Decency,” she said.

“And you think it's decent to take away my business because I'm the one who found your friend and tried to save her?”

“Oh grow up, Allie,” Eleanor said. “This isn't personal.”

“Right,” I said with disappointment and a touch of anger. “Good to know.” I turned on my heel. “Come on, Frances. There's nothing more we can do here.”

Frances shot a look at Eleanor that would have withered the most unruly of students and then walked out of the office with me. As we turned down the long hall and passed the big kitchen, Frances put her hand on my arm.

“What?” I asked, following her gaze into the kitchen where two older women were taking a break at a small table near the back door.

“You go on.” She glanced at the oversized watch on her wrist. “I've got twenty minutes before my appointment. I'm going to say hi to my friends.”

“Thanks for coming with me,” I said. “Sorry it was a bust.”

“It's okay. All may not be lost yet.”

I watched her walk into the kitchen. I wanted to follow, but if Eleanor was right, I wasn't exactly the most welcomed person in the club. Especially not to the staff whose reputation depended on how well tonight's gala went.

* * *

“You look stunning,” Jenn said as I twirled in front of the full length mirror attached to my wooden closet door.

I was dressed in a backless, floor-length black dress with a scooped front neckline and long sleeves. I wore a simple string of pearls that had belonged to my grandmother. I wore it like a choker in front and let it drape down my bare back. Pearl drop earrings accented my lobes as my hair was piled high into a stylish updo that Jenn had spent an hour crafting.

“Are you sure I don't still smell like fudge?” I bit my bottom lip. Jenn had given me a makeover complete with cat-eyed style, black eye liner, and deep red lip.

“No one will care,” Jenn said and crossed her arms satisfactorily. “In fact, you are so stunning, no one's going to be talking about Carin or Paige. All eyes will be on you.”

“Oh stop it. You're making me nervous.”

“No, seriously. You look like Audrey Hepburn.”

“I do not,” I protested. “But thanks anyway.” I gave her a quick hug and a kiss as the apartment doorbell rang.

“Oh, he's here!” Jenn clapped her hands. “This has been the best day. First, I've nearly finished setting the scene for tomorrow's romantic proposal and second, I got to make you look like a Hollywood movie star.”

“The only thing missing is you.” I eyed her blue satin pajama pants and white cotton T-shirt. “You should be going.”

“Oh, no,” Jenn said as she went to answer the door. “The only way I go to these things is if I'm working it. Trust me. I'm glad for a day off on this one.” She opened the door and Trent stood there in a black tuxedo.

His square jaw and dark hair made him look like the perfect
GQ
model. His eyes flashed at the sight of me.

“Wow.” Jenn and I said at the same time as Trent.

“Jinks!” Jenn said, laughing. “Look at you two.” She held the door as he stepped into the apartment with a small flower box in his hand. “You look like something out of a
Vogue
fashion spread.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I don't think so. Trent maybe ...”

“You look gorgeous,” he said in a low sexy tone that made a blush rush right up my cheeks. “I brought you a corsage.”

“It feels like prom,” I said when he opened the box and pulled out a delicate orchid wrist corsage.

“Did you go to prom?” he asked me.

“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “I was too busy apprenticing at a local chocolate shop.”

“It's better to go to prom as an adult anyway.” He winked at me. “We know what we're doing now.”

There was a ping of a text message. Trent reached for his phone in his pocket and checked it. “Paige says to have fun.”

“Oh, she's not going?” Jenn asked.

“She's wearing an ankle bracelet and is confined to the cottage. Shall we send her a selfie?” He pulled me close and held his phone up. “Smile.”

I did and a second later the picture was on its way to Paige.

“We should go. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” I said.

“Wait!” Jenn ran into her bedroom. She came back out with a shimmering silk scarf. “Take this in case it gets cold later tonight.”

“Thanks!” I wrapped it around my shoulders. The dress had sleeves but being backless more skin was exposed than you would think. “Good night.”

“'Night kids. Have fun now!” Jenn waved us out the front door.

We took the elevator down to the lobby and stepped into the dim evening light.

“You two look gorgeous!” Megan said from her place behind the reception desk.

“Thanks,” I said as we walked by. “Have a good night.”

Trent had a horse and carriage waiting outside. It was a short walk from the McMurphy to the yacht club, but taking a carriage was best considering my four-inch stilettos.

“How's Paige holding up?” I asked once we were settled in for the short ride.

“As best as could be expected,” Trent said. “She's brave.”

I noted the tightness in his jaw and put my hand on his arm. “I know. Your investigator is very good. We'll get this figured out. It all comes down to the eyewitness. If we can figure out what motivated Harold Jones to say what he said, we can find the real killer. I'm certain.”

Trent patted my knee. “Let's hope that happens soon.”

We arrived at the yacht club and stood in a line of carriages that delivered guests in dazzling designer attire. My simple gown was a loaner from an online company who rented designer gowns. Jenn had found it and had them overnight ship the gown to me. The shoes were mine—black patent leather stilettos that had been an investment for graduation from culinary institute last year.

Trent held out his hand and helped me out of the carriage. He leaned in and whispered against my ear. “You look fantastic. Are you ready for this? It won't be easy.”

“I'm glad to be by your side,” I replied and gave him a long look to emphasize my words.

He smiled that charming, perfect smile of his that I swear had to be practiced and yet knew it wasn't. He slipped my hand into the crook of his arm and walked me up the red carpet and into the yacht club.

Music swirled at just the right volume. The air was scented with expensive perfume and fresh flowers. We were greeted by Richard Blake, the president of the yacht club, and his wife Amelia, who were hosting the evening's gala. As Trent shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, I could tell from the look in their eyes that they were on the fence about whether we should be there or not. I knew it was because they didn't want a scene. While he was welcomed, I was tolerated. I deduced it was partly because I wasn't of moneyed elite and partly because they had hoped I wouldn't come. As Eleanor had mentioned, I was a reminder to everyone that Carin Moore was dead.

The evening began with cocktails and canapés in the front parlor. I smiled and made small talk, mostly staying by Trent's side. That said, I wasn't passive. I could hold my own there. I spent the time looking at the female members, trying to figure out who might be dating Harold Jones. I had the feeling that if I knew who he was seeing, I could trace back to why he'd said what he'd said about Paige.

As people entered, I kept an eye on who had dates and who didn't. My thinking was that Harold's girl might show up unescorted. An hour and a half into the cocktails, I saw no one who didn't have a date. Trent had introduced me to several new people. Most had known Papa Liam and expressed their sorrow at his loss this spring.

“He was a fine man,” Mr. Butterworth said. “I played cards with him often.”

“You have to admit he was a card fiend, wasn't he?” I asked.

“More like a shark,” he said and winked at me. “Not that anyone objected. Good man, your Papa. He was a good man. Now if you will excuse me, I see an old friend I haven't seen since last year's races.” Mr. Butterworth patted me on the shoulder and moved on.

One of the servers came in holding a bell and hit it with a rubber hammer.

“Time to go in to dinner,” Trent said.

I looked around, disappointed that I wasn't able to deduce who Harold Jones might be seeing.

As Trent escorted me to our table in the far corner, I saw several of the ladies leaving their shawls and heading toward the restrooms. “Please excuse me,” I said, draping my shawl on the back of my chair. “I need to powder my nose.”

Trent nodded and took a seat as I made my way through the crowd. It seemed surreal to use that old phrase, but I wasn't going to tell him that I needed to go to the restroom to see if I could pick up on any good gossip.

The line extended into the lounge area full of couches, mirrored walls with vanity counters, and small stools so women could either rest or sit and fix their makeup. I sat on a stool behind the crowd and took out my compact. The talk was mostly of the yacht race winners and losers as well as welcomes and quick hugs of old friends. And then I heard the conversation I had been waiting for.

“I cannot believe that Paige Jessop killed Carin Moore. I thought they had buried the hatchet last fall.”

“I know,” said a blonde in a long red Valentino gown. “Paige told me that she and Carin had more in common than anyone else. It's why Carin had said they should join forces.”

“I know they worked on the Christmas fund-raiser for the Chicago Police Widows and Orphans campaign. It was quite the success.”

“Well, they certainly wouldn't have argued about boyfriends. I spent a weekend with Carin last month. She was over the moon about this new man in her life.”

“Really? Who?”

“James Jamison,” the blonde said. “They met at the fund-raiser. His family is eyeing him as a candidate for Congress. In fact, Carin said he has his eye on the ultimate prize.”

“The White House?”