CHAPTER 1
It’s a curious thing to know exactly where you are and still be lost. For example, I was at lunch.
On Sunday afternoons, the Pinnacle Hotel turned the opulent Gold Room from ballroom into restaurant, open to guests and tourists alike, who could order from a prix fixe menu and listen to the piano while they sipped champagne and chatted about the upcoming week. Maybe even dance about the room with a romantic partner, if one was feeling up to a waltz. A thing of dreams for many.
A nightmare for me.
There were too many people here. It was better up in my room, alone with my pets. But, alas, I had made a promise, and I intended to keep it.
“Do cheer up, Evelyn,” my dear friend Henry Fox said. He raised a glass of champagne and winked at me. “I’m here, after all.”
If anyone else had said it, it would’ve sounded arrogant. But Henry was a movie star who had recently opened to rave reviews on Broadway. Getting him all to myself had been nigh but impossible the last two and a half months.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I picked up my glass and tapped it gently against his. “You’re here and that’s wonderful.” I sipped the champagne, the bubbles tickling my nose. “It’s frustrating. He’s so handsome. I don’t trust handsome men.”
Henry ahem-ed.
“Present company excluded, of course.”
“Of course.” He looked at the piano. The man playing it was in his mid-twenties. His complexion was a deep tan, his eyes and hair were dark, his jawline strong and chiseled, and he wore a tuxedo that molded to his brawny shoulders so well it could’ve been a second skin. “You think he’s handsome?”
Colin Sharpe was easily the best-looking man I’d ever seen, and I was sitting next to a movie star. In Henry’s defense, at least he was taller than Colin. “A bit, yes.”
Henry sighed. “I suppose. He doesn’t look much like his father, however, who I would argue is a better-looking gentleman.”
Colin’s father, Silas Sharpe, was the Pinnacle Hotel’s manager and, by extension, my primary babysitter growing up. He was in his forties, his salt-and-pepper hair more salt now, with a mustache he kept waxed and combed, and a light Scottish accent that his two decades spent in the States had shaken, but not completely erased. He and Henry were, one could say, good friends. Very good.
I laughed.
Henry drummed his fingers on the tabletop, gave me a most unsmiling look. He was not joking.
I raised a hand to my mouth and coughed. “Oh dear,” I said. “I … um. You understand.
I was thinking about something else. A joke.”
“What joke?”
I glanced about the room for help. Something—anything—a spark of a joke I could tell. It was busy in the Gold Room, but not crowded. A group of four women were a few tables away from us, drinking champagne and stabbing at their salads. Well, three of the women were. The one at the head of the table seemed to be doing a lot of talking and pointing.
There were no jokes to be had anywhere. Instead, with a big sigh of relief, I said, “Here comes Poppy!” and rose from my seat.
Henry muttered something unhelpful.
Poppy was my newest assistant. She used to work as a maid at the hotel before I scooped her up for my own purposes. She got my mail, took care of my dog, and—as I am the Pinnacle Hotel’s own party planner—assisted in getting the parties planned.
The job used to belong to her brother. But we don’t speak of him if we can help it.
Poppy arrived carrying my mail and the Sunday edition of the Times. I gave her my seat and moved over, one away from Henry.
“Hello,” she greeted, looking between the two of us. She put the package, the newspaper, and a postcard on the table. “For you.”
“Wonderful!” The postcard had a picture of a sunset, or perhaps a sunrise, over green hills speckled with horses. The words “Texas Welcomes You” were stamped on the bottom right. “My cousin Martha,” I said, flipping over and reading the back. “She’s back home in Texas after graduating from university in Arizona. And she’s accepted the invitation to visit for Christmas. How delightful! She’s definitely not a communist, you know.”
My assistant bit her tongue between her teeth. “Does she know that’s how you describe her?”
Henry cleared his throat. “Poppy, settle a debate for us.”
I rolled my eyes and reached for the package.
“Who is more handsome? Mr. Sharpe? Or Mr. Sharpe?”
She shook her head. “Oh no. No, thank you. I will not be taking sides in this debate.”
“Surely you must have an opinion,” Henry insisted.
She mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.
I peeled the brown paper wrapping back to reveal a small white box. I lifted the lid and gasped. A beautiful diamond tiara shone up at me. “It’s just like Lorelei Lee’s!” I pulled it out reverently and let it glimmer in the light of the Gold Room.
Henry whistled. “Look at the rocks on that!”
“Oh my goodness,” I said, “it’s real too! Can you believe it? How positively ginchy! Poppy, who sent it?”
She dug around in the package while I fiddled with the hairpins holding my hat in place.
“DeBeers,” Poppy said with a note in hand.
I snorted, working the last pin free and freeing my hair from my hat. “I can see that, Poppy. Who sent it?”
She grinned. “Mister.”
I hesitated a moment, the tiara hovering inches above my head. Having been to the salon only yesterday, my platinum curls were perfectly coiffed. I set the tiara instead back in the box. “Is that so?” I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe that Daddy had sent me a present.
Ugh, Daddy. “It seems my father has been telling all his contemporaries and their progeny that I am single and ready to be married.”
Henry reached out and put a reassuring hand on top of mine. “It’s pretty, at least.”
“Well, so am I,” I said. “Just because I wanted to marry one particular person doesn’t mean I’m looking to be married to any old body.”
“I don’t think a DeBeers is an any old body,” Henry replied. “But I see what you mean.”
Poppy put the note back in the box and closed it up, the tiara hidden from view. “My brother is an idiot,” she said. “He’ll come crawling back, Evelyn. I know he will.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t wait too long.” Henry gave the piano player a significant look.
I looked over at him too. He was still dreadfully handsome, but it didn’t fill me with any sort of thrill. It was like looking at a piece of art that somebody else picked. Yes, it looks nice, and it adds a bit of class to the space, but it doesn’t move me.
Maybe nothing would ever again. What a terrifying thought.
“I’ll have to hire him for the gala,” I said. “We need entertainment anyway, and it will give me a chance to snoop on him for you and your Mr. Sharpe.”
From what I knew of the history between father and son, I gathered that the son did not know about the father’s relationship with Henry, and we were all keeping that close to our vests until we knew what kind of man he was. I’d volunteered to get to the bottom of his character, and I meant to keep my word, no matter how much I’d rather be alone in my room. With my dog and my cat. And probably a Christie novel too.
“What is the gala for again, Ev?” Henry asked.
I waved a hand. My analyst had suggested I organize a charity gala to help me through the grieving process. That doing something productive and helpful might make me feel better. So far, it was turning out to be hogwash. “Starving mothers or hungry orphans or something. Poppy knows the details.”
Poppy laughed. “It’s a good cause, Ev. Really.”
“Excuse me? Miss?”
I blinked away from my friends and looked up into the wide eyes of a woman I didn’t know. But I did recognize her. She’d been dining at the nearby table with three other women.
“Yes?” I forced a smile. I was at lunch with my friends, of course, but I was also The Owner’s Daughter and knew how to play hostess. “How may I help you?”
“It’s only”—she blushed fiercely—“my friends and I saw your tiara and realized you were a woman of taste. We happen to … well.” She visibly shook herself, rolled back her shoulders. “We represent a company called Ladies Love to Sparkle and have quite a collection of affordable
costume jewelry for sale. I would love to invite you to have a drink with us and show you some of our pieces.”
Affordable and costume were not words that I, for one, had ever put before jewelry. But, as a rule, I didn’t say no to a drink when offered by a guest.
“You two will be all right without me for a moment?” I asked Henry and Poppy out of politeness rather than actual concern. They had gotten close since I’d hired Poppy as my personal assistant to replace her brother. A welcome friendship, honestly, as it kept Poppy from turning into a stammering fool every time Henry smiled at her and meant I didn’t have to keep secrets any longer. At least not between the two people I cared about the most.
Who currently lived in New York, anyway. And not somewhere else. They hadn’t boarded a ship and left me behind. Not yet. There was always tomorrow, I supposed.
I followed the woman over to the other table, bringing my glass of champagne with me.
“I’m Prudence, by the way,” the woman said, offering me her hand. “Prudence Cartwright.”
I had to shift my glass to my other hand to shake hers. “Evelyn Murphy. Nice to meet you.”
“Ladies,” Prudence said to her group, interrupting a one-sided conversation, “this is Evelyn Murphy, and she is interested in seeing what we offer.”
The woman at the head of the table—the one who’d been carrying on the conversation—looked at me with twinkling eyes. “I know exactly who this is. Evelyn Murphy, as I live and breathe. Well, Prudence, you have done exceptionally well today. I’m so proud of you. Ladies, you can learn from Prudence.” She turned her twinkling eyes to the other two women at the table, except the twinkling went out like someone had pulled a string. “It’s worth putting yourself out there and making introductions, even when you feel uncomfortable. You might end up inviting the Evelyn Murphy to your table. Come.” She patted the seat closest to her. “Sit next to me, Evelyn. Prudence, go ask a waiter for another chair.”
Prudence left without a word. This was surprising to me, as getting a waiter’s attention here in the Pinnacle Hotel was as easy as raising a hand, but the poor woman had marched off before I had a chance to help.
“I’m Lois,” the head woman said. “Lois Mitchell. I’m sure my reputation proceeds me.”
I smiled blankly. I had absolutely no idea who she was nor any inkling about her reputation.
“This is my team of successful saleswomen. You’ve met Prudence, but that’s Ruth”—she motioned at the woman to her left, and Ruth waved—
“and Veronica.” Veronica sat at the very end of the table. She nodded her head.
Prudence arrived with two waiters trailing behind. One was carrying a chair, and one a tray of freshly poured champagne. He apologized when he was one short because of my arrival, but I held up my glass to show him I still had plenty.
“Veronica, why don’t you share a catalogue with Miss Murphy? We have our own catalogue,” she said. “Like Sears. It’s quite the business.”
I took the catalogue from a smiling Veronica. “Sears?”
“What? No.” Lois laughed, but it didn’t sound genuine. “Ladies Love to Sparkle, of course. It’s a wonderful business with an incredible product. Costume jewelry so good it’ll fool a jewel thief! But that isn’t the best part.”
“No?”
“No, the best part is that it is a foolproof way for a housewife to bring in a little extra money. Mostly, all we must do is hold parties, which, I understand, is something you’re good at, Miss Murphy?”
“I do try.” I sipped my champagne and flipped through the pages of the catalogue in my lap. The pieces sparkled in the photographs, and from the way the pictures were taken, it was hard to tell that they weren’t real gems.
“Pass the strawberries, Prudence,” Lois said. “I’m running low. Don’t bother Miss Murphy with it—she’s busy shopping.” Prudence handed the tray of fruit to Veronica, who passed it to Ruth, who passed it to Lois.
“I just love strawberries,” Lois said. She put a few in her salad and one in her drink. “Do you love strawberries, Miss Murphy? Ladies, please, put a strawberry in your drink for me. I’d like to make a toast to my sales team.”
The tray was passed back around, and they all followed orders. Lois picked up her glass and raised it. “I just know you three will improve. This time next year, I expect all of you to have tripled your sales and doubled your own teams.”
All four of them took a sip. I watched, more interested in the group dynamics than in the products they were selling. She sounded more threatening than positive, but none of the women looked bothered.
Lois covered her mouth with her hand to clear her throat. “You know, Miss Murphy, I have a friend.” She swallowed hard, picked up her fork. “He’s a very wise man, a successful businessman. And when I was first thinking of joining this opportunity, well, I brought all the details to him for his opinion, and you know what he said?” She paused to take a bite of her salad and another sip of champagne. “He said if anyone fails in this line of work, it’s
because they’re lazy, stupid, greedy, or dead.”
The words hung in the air. It would’ve been silent, except the piano never stopped playing.
Ruth coughed and the spell was broken.
Lois chewed on a crunchy piece of lettuce. She wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin and drank her champagne. “Delicious,” she said. “I love to eat here. It’s a beautiful hotel.”
I smiled. “Thank you ever so. And thank you for asking me over. I do think it’s time for me to head back to my table, but—”
Lois’s cheeks went red. I stopped talking, thinking she was angry at me for excusing myself, wondering how someone could get that angry that fast. But then Lois grabbed at her neck with both hands. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, her eyes wide with terror.
“Are you choking?” I asked. “Lois, are you choking?”
She shook her head, but she wasn’t breathing.
“Lois?” I was frozen in my seat. My eyes could move though, and they darted over to the other women, who were all as frozen and helpless as I was. “Help?” The idea came to me the moment I said the word out loud. “Help! We need help! Help!”
The music stopped.
Lois fell into my lap, the catalogue fluttering to the floor.
CHAPTER 2
Help arrived in a blur. Lois was in my lap until Colin Sharpe and Henry Fox pulled her off me and laid her down on the ground. Every eye in the Gold Room was trained on her, lying there, purpling up something fierce. Her friends didn’t move to her side. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath before kneeling next to her head. Her skin was warm, and the pulse in her wrist lightly buzzed under my fingers.
I did my best to look reassuringly at her tablemates. “She’s alive. Poppy? Where did Poppy go?”
“She went to go get Mr. Sharpe,” Henry said, looking at me funny. “Colin went with her.”
I nodded, swallowed again, another click in my throat. Lois’s breath was shallow, and it rattled in her chest. I brushed her dark hair off her forehead, said a quick prayer, and made the sign of the cross. Henry, bless him, did the same, still looking at me like I was the one whose skin was rapidly morphing from beige to magenta.
The police arrived not much longer after that, trailing behind a frantic Mr. Sharpe, his son, and my assistant. I didn’t recognize the officers. This was both a good and bad thing, as I’ve had both good and bad experiences with our local police department. A still-breathing Lois Mitchell was removed from the Gold Room. I watched the doors close behind the young men tasked with transporting Lois to the hospital. Colin began playing the piano again.
Mr. Sharpe stood in front of him and raised his arms, a false smile underneath his mustache. “Guests, on behalf of the Pinnacle, I’d like to apologize for the unfortunate event that you witnessed. Let me encourage you not to worry. I am assured by the medical professionals that Mrs. Mitchell will be given all needed attention at the nearest hospital. Please, raise a fresh glass, on the house, and let us toast to Mrs. Mitchell’s health and speedy recovery.”
While I’d been frozen, Mr. Sharpe had been busy, because the moment he said those words a bevy of waiters appeared, carrying silver trays of champagne. I shook my head. My legs had gone numb underneath me, the pins and needles feeling attacking my calves with gusto.
“Evelyn?” Henry offered me his hand and helped me stand, though I was shaking. “What happened?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea, darling. One moment she was talking business, and the next …” I shrugged. “What could it have been? A heart attack?”
He pushed his palm against his forehead. “I don’t know, darling. Do heart attacks make you go all swollen and purple like that?”
One of the women at the table whimpered. I turned around to take their measure. It was Prudence, the one who’d walked me to the table, who held a napkin folded in the shape of a triangle under her watering left eye. “Do you think? I mean, we were so careful about what we
we ordered.” She dabbed at her right eye. “Lois is allergic to shellfish. But the salad? That couldn’t have had any shellfish, could it, Miss Murphy?”
I stared at the table. Five glasses of champagne, including my own. Four bowls of half-eaten salad. Garden salad, with tomatoes and croutons and lettuce. Slice strawberries on a silver tray. No shrimp or crab or lobster to be seen. “Maybe in the dressing? In Caesar dressing, there’s anchovies. Maybe Marco did something similar today? I’ll speak with our chef.” Marco would be in knots over this. He was such a sensitive creature when it came to his food. A sweet, dear soul.
“Anchovies?” Henry’s handsome face twisted into disgust. “I’d never have guessed.”
I ignored his thrust-out tongue. “They’re salty and delicious, darling. Eat whatever Marco makes you and you’ll be happy.” Unless you ended up like poor Lois Mitchell, of course. “Ladies.” With a deep frown, I met all their eyes. Everyone looked scared, surprised. Only Prudence had mustered tears, and there were few. Strange, that. “Ladies, is there anything I can do for you right now?”
Prudence shook her head. “No, thank you, Miss Murphy. I’ll need a phone, though. I should ring her husband, let him know what has happened. What hospital she is in. Do you know which hospital she has been taken to?”
“Manhattan General.” I spoke from experience on that matter. “And the front desk will give you use of their phones for as long as you need.”
Prudence dabbed her eyes with her triangle cloth once more before rising to her feet. “Otherwise, then, it’s just the check.”
“Please, let me cover that.”
“Even the tip?” Veronica asked, standing as well. “I’d hate for the waiter to suffer because of this.” She shrugged, arms wide.
“You’re a doll for thinking of the waiters in your time of need. I’ll take care of them, I promise.”
The three women looked at one another, sniffling profusely and then nodding in sync. They left the Gold Room as a group, without another look back. I wrinkled my nose as busboys descended on the table to clean it for the next guests. “Boys,” I said, “would you do me a favor? Would you save Mrs. Mitchell’s salad bowl and champagne glass exactly as they are, please? Do any of you have a pair of gloves?”
“Evelyn, darling.” Henry wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a side hug. “Surely, you don’t think this was done on purpose, do you? Something nefarious afoot? You were sitting right next to her. She was having lunch with her friends.”
“She was having lunch with her subordinates,” I said. “I don’t know what I think.”
Pinpricks of sweat appeared on the youngest busboy’s forehead. ...
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