Dead on Her Feet (An Antonia Blakeley Tango Mystery Book 1) (14 page)

Christian popped his head out of the library.

Only the prospect of seeing Nathalie would tempt him out of his hole, Antonia thought dismally.

“Guess what I am!” Nathalie stamped to a flamenco rhythm. She stopped and snapped her fan open with a flourish. She held out her left hand and fluttered her fingers, flashing an engagement ring. Shawna’s engagement ring.

Woo-hoo, Antonia thought. Christian’s safe, he’s safe, he’s safe, he’s safe.

Barbara gasped. Roland cleared his throat. Shawna’s expression was difficult to read because of her geisha makeup, but the stillness of her posture radiated tension. Only Bobby seemed pleased, if his vacant expression was any indication.

Nathalie touched her fingers to her décolletage, the better to show off her prize, and looked up at Roland. “Roland has asked me to marry him.”

Shawna said to Roland, “You gave her the same ring?”

“You promised to wait,” Roland said to Nathalie between clenched teeth.

Nathalie continued to smile, acting as if she hadn’t heard. “It was quite sudden, wasn’t it darling, but you know what they say? He simply swept me off my feet.”

And onto your back, Antonia thought.

“Of course you’ll all be invited to the wedding.” Nathalie batted her eyes at Barbara. “Maybe you’ll catch the bouquet.”

Barbara went off like a siren. But instead of attacking Nathalie she went straight for Roland and flung the contents of her drink in his face. Red wine splashed his dark eyelashes, trickled down his nose, and dripped onto his starched white shirt and spangled jacket. He was going to have quite the dry cleaning bill.

“Liar! Two-timer!” Barbara went to strike him.

Roland threw up his hands to deflect her, knocking his matador’s hat off. “Are you crazy? Cut it out!”

“You cockroach, don’t you tell me what to do!” Barbara pitched her empty cup at his face. The plastic bounced perfectly off his forehead as Barbara continued to harangue him. The whole scene was immensely gratifying.

“Barbara. Stop! Right! Now!” Shawna clapped like she was disciplining a dog but it didn’t do any good.

Bobby grabbed Barbara from behind, pinning her in a bear hug that had to be uncomfortable, since he was still wearing his metal ice tray. This tactic immobilized Barbara’s arms but she continued to struggle and her foot managed to connect with Bobby’s shin. He grunted in pain. “Manners, old girl.”

“Manners? Right—I forgot my manners. Never mind what people really—do—let me go!”

Bobby’s response was partially muffled. “I’m not—you go—behave like a lady.”

Nathalie laughed. “Her?”

Barbara spun out of Bobby’s grasp. “You shut your painted mouth!” She grabbed Nathalie by her chignon and yanked. Nathalie screeched. It was much, much better than mud wrestling. Antonia glanced to see how Christian was reacting and was heartened to see him smirking. Maybe he wasn’t under Nathalie’s spell after all. By that point the other partygoers had heard the commotion and spilled into the living room to see what was happening.

“Get her off me!” Nathalie spun away from Barbara and cowered behind Roland, bobbing from side to side to avoid being clawed by her enraged rival. “Roland! Help!”

“Stop yelling,” Roland said to her.

Nathalie wailed, “Roland!”

Barbara took a swing at Nathalie but missed. “You can’t hide from me, you bitch!”

Christian hooted.

“Cut it out.” Shawna grabbed for Barbara’s arm but she was too late. Barbara’s nails raked Roland’s face. “Antonia, help me!”

No way, Antonia thought. This is too good.

“Stop it,” Roland cried, touching his cheek while Nathalie clung to his other arm.

“See if you ever use this again, snake!” Barbara kicked at Roland’s groin and missed. As she toppled over, something heavy and metallic dropped from under her dress and clattered to the floor.

Antonia nearly leapt out of her toga. What was Barbara doing with a puñal?

Barbara picked herself up and lodged a soccer kick at Roland’s ankle, missing him but grazing the dagger which skidded blade-first across the hall to rest at Christian’s feet.

“Get that!” Antonia caught Barbara’s arm before she could attack again. “That’s enough.” Between her and Bobby they managed to hold Barbara back but Barbara continued to struggle and curse while Nathalie shrieked like a fishwife in Roland’s arms.

“¿Estás loco? What are you doing with my woman?”

The action stopped. All eyes turned toward the front door. Backlit by the streetlights, the newcomer stood framed in the doorway.

Showdown

HOLY MIERDA,
ANTONIA THOUGHT.

“Eduardo?” Nathalie gaped at Eduardo as if he’d come back from the dead instead of South America. The other guests looked equally disoriented.

Barbara pealed with laughter. “You did come!?”

What’s she talking about? And what was he doing back in Atlanta? He wasn’t in costume. Dressed in a sweater and slacks he looked his usual elegant self except for the stony expression on his face.

“Eduardo, thank God you’re here.” Nathalie took a second to catch her breath. “Did you see that? This—this—lunatic attacked me.” A bobby pin dangled from her chignon and a lock of hair had come loose in the struggle. She patted it back in place with one hand, hiding her incriminating hand behind her back.

Roland released Nathalie and inched away. “There’s been a little misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“Eduardo,” Shawna said. “I thought—how did you—when did you get to town?”

Eduardo fixed his attention on Roland. Very, very quietly, he said, “Perhaps you will do me the courtesy of explaining what is happening here.”

Antonia tried to remember the last time she’d spoken to her friend. He’d told her he’d be spending the next months in Buenos Aires.

“Hey, buddy.” Roland found his matador’s hat on the floor and put it back on his head, making him look like a dressed-up mouse.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Shawna asked Eduardo in a travesty of her airlines persona. “Come with me.”

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Barbara shouted, overriding Shawna. “Your precious Nathalie just got engaged to a two-timing prick.”

Eduardo stared at Barbara.

“The ring—look—the ring,” Barbara pointed to her own bare ring finger and burst into triumphant, bitter laughter.

Eduardo took a deep breath. Locking eyes with Nathalie he asked, “Is this true?” He seized Nathalie’s left hand and drew it towards him. His dark eyes narrowed when he saw the proof on her finger. “You have lost me,
puta
.”

“You have some nerve.” Nathalie snatched her hand away and pressed the ring to her lips.

At least he’s keeping his temper, Antonia thought. She looked over at Christian. He was staring at Nathalie, drawing his finger along the blade of Barbara’s dagger.

 “Eduardo, let’s take this outside,” Antonia said, hoping to get him out of the house before he noticed the puñal.

 “Why should I leave? Roland should be the one to leave if he has any decency. To betray a friend is one of the most contemptible acts a man can commit.” Eduardo looked around the living room and for the first time seemed to notice the other guests. He appealed to them. “Do you know what this man has done? I trusted him and this is how he repays my friendship.”

Antonia said, “Roland, don’t,” hoping to forestall his inevitable reaction which would be to try to justify himself, but it was too late.

Roland held up both hands and started to smile. “She assured me it was over between you two.”

Nathalie said, “Eduardo, be reasonable.”

Eduardo pushed up one sleeve of his sweater to expose a wiry forearm and advanced towards Roland.

Roland looked around. Spectators blocked the hall and the passage to the dining room, leaving him nowhere to go but further into the living room. Eduardo pushed up the other sleeve of his sweater.

“For Christ’s sake, Eduardo,” Roland said, “wait a minute.”

Eduardo stood face-to-face with Roland. “You are no friend. You are just as treacherous as this bitch.”

Roland backed into the couch and toppled over, causing his matador’s hat to fall off again. He lay helpless among the cushions. “Don’t hit me!”

Eduardo paused, deliberately. “Do you think I would touch you,
boludo
,” he said at last. “I should thank you. You have saved me a great deal of trouble.” Eduardo turned back to Nathalie. “You lied and you betrayed me.” A vein throbbed in his forehead but otherwise, thankfully, he remained in command of his temper.

Nathalie’s mouth fell open. “How dare you talk to me that way? You lied to me.”

Eduardo picked a stray wool thread from his sweater and examined it. “I hardly care to hear how you came to that conclusion.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. When you brought me to meet your mother in Buenos Aires she made it very clear.” Nathalie untied her shawl from her hips, wrapped it around her shoulders, and waved her hand in a tragic gesture that belonged on the stage. “Don’t force me to say more in front of your friends.”

Eduardo balled up the thread with his fingers and flicked it away.

Thank goodness his pride was stronger than his anger. Antonia dashed over to the CD player and advanced it to the next song in the queue which turned out to be “La Cumparsita”. It was normally the last song of the night but somehow it must have gotten shuffled out of order.

This version had always reminded her of a Tom and Jerry cartoon: the cat sneaking up on tiptoes, hiding abruptly behind a tree when his prey turned around, the scene repeating itself, sneaking and hiding, sneaking and hiding. The music didn’t sound comic now. “Let’s dance!”

“Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your engagement, my dear.” Eduardo gripped Nathalie by the elbow and forced her into the dining room. Everyone followed. Eduardo locked her in an unwilling embrace and strong-armed her around the dance floor, not caring if she could follow or not.

Nathalie tried to carry it off, her smile a rictus.

Antonia suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to giggle.

Rejection

ANTONIA DARTED THROUGH THE ARCHWAY
with her hand over her mouth. Once in the privacy of the kitchen she let the laughing jag run its course. She returned to the dining room in time to watch Eduardo finish his cold dance with Nathalie and deposit her in one of the folding chairs at the edge of the dance floor. Surely Nathalie would take the opportunity to bolt and Roland would leave with her.

But Roland, brazen as ever, immediately claimed her for the next tanda.

D’Agostino’s orchestra tipica played a tender, schmaltzy “El Choclo”. Antonia preferred the song later in the evening when she could rock to sleep in her partner’s arms, but Shawna’s selection was perfect for the moment: the steady rhythm, the sprightly string orchestra and piano, and Angel Vargas’ singing would sooth and reassure the dancers. Diplomacy through music.

Most of the guests, sensibly, seemed to think it would be prudent to move on to other parties and were filing out. A few brave couples cautiously repopulated the dining room floor.

Antonia was just wondering where Christian had disappeared to when she heard a noise behind her and there he was, looking as downcast as she’d ever seen him. Even his Merlin’s robe dragged. He inspected the cheese tray on the kitchen island and picked up the knife she’d used earlier on the apples.

“What did you do with the knife?”

He scowled at the utensil. It was a steak knife with a fine, serrated blade and the type of handle that couldn’t go in the dishwasher. “Nothing. I’m using it.”

“I mean the one Barbara was carrying earlier. You picked it up when it fell out of her garter. Where did you put it?”

 “Afraid someone will use it on someone?” He drew a slow zigzag in the air with the blade.

“What kind of talk is that? What’s the deal between you and Nathalie?”

“Nothing.” Christian pressed the point of the kitchen knife into the cheddar wheel and ground a hole in its center.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t!” Christian drove the blade into the cheese with such force the handle shook back and forth. He turned and ran from the room.

Antonia followed him into the hall. “What is it? You’ve always been able to talk to me.”

Tears welled in his eyes. “Leave me alone. You’re not my mother.”

He might as well have stuck the knife into her heart, carved it up for Argentine
asado
, and served it back to her on a spit.

She retreated to the kitchen hoping to find a moment alone to recover only to find Eduardo at the island pouring himself a glass of wine.

He held up the bottle so she could see the label. Norton. Argentine Malbec. “Would you like to join me?”

She shook her head.

“You’re wringing your costume like a washerwoman. ¿Que pasa?”

She looked down and caught her hands in the act. She opened them and let the crumpled material fall back into place. “So I am.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Christian.” She couldn’t exactly tell Eduardo Christian was obsessing over his ex-lover and threatening to mutilate her, so she just said, “The usual.”

Eduardo put his arms around her and they stood together in silence for a few minutes while Angel Vargas crooned away in the next room. His embrace felt solid and comforting. Gradually she felt her own equilibrium return. “I thought you were marvelous back there. You seem so calm. Doesn’t your honor require some sort of action? I thought as an Argentine …”

“I should challenge Roland to a duel? That response is for another century.” He went on in a gentle voice. “How do you feel?”

She took a deep breath. “Sick to my stomach. Worried. Like I lost a child.”

“You must let go of the people you love.”

“I can’t.”

“Because of the trouble he got into earlier this year?”

“Not just that. He lost his temper with Barbara. I’m worried he’s turning out like his father.” She buried her face in his chest.