Shitake Happens: (A Shitake Mystery Series Prequel) (5 page)

“He certainly
does
know his own name. He’s probably just scared. He—”

“I was joking,” he interrupted.

“Oh sorry,” she said. “Too much coffee is making me a spastic mess today.”

“I don’t notice any spaz or mess.”

She felt herself blush as she murmured, “Thanks.”

“What’s your name?” Wallace asked.

She hesitated. As with the cat name, her mind raced. What should she use?

“I’m not a stalker or anything.” He chuckled.

“I know,” she said, stalling for time.

“You do?”

“What?” Mo asked, startled.

“You said you know I’m not a stalker and I wondered how you know.”

"Oh. Well...I recognize you from television. You're the weather guy, Wallace Williams," Mo explained.

He seemed pleased. “I feel at a disadvantage. Since you know who I am, will you tell me your name?”

"Ummmmm." She hesitated, her mind a complete blank. She couldn't tell him her real name could she?
 
Mo gazed off into the distance again for a few seconds before answering. She held her hand out in greeting. “My name is Angelina Jolie."

Why did I say that?

"Interesting name," he said with a broad grin. "I bet you get lots of comments about it. There are built-in expectations with that name."

She laughed. "No six kids for me. Just one cat."

"Any Brad Pitt?"

"No. I'm single," Mo said.

Wallace Williams smirked. "Two expectations down. But you
are
beautiful. So you live up to at least one."

This guy was a player, all right. He was definitely flirting with her.

"Thank you," she said, looking at her shoes to appear as if she was embarrassed but pleased.

"Can I see you again?" he asked.

Mo glanced up. If she was too easy, she might loose him. She had to work this hook just right not to lose the fish. "I don't know. You're still kind of an unknown. I've already violated my Mama's rule about not talking to strangers."

"Fair enough," he said. "There's an art opening tonight at the Metropolis gallery downtown. You'll be safe with all those people around to protect you from me."

"Okay. I'd like that," she said, trying to conceal her total glee.

Clarence's stupid plan—with her accidental modifications—had worked out after all. Not that she was ever going to tell
him
that.

"Seven?" Wallace asked, his eyes twinkling and his voice seductively low.

She nodded.

"See you then...Angelina."

* * * * *

Mo arrived at the gallery promptly at seven, wearing a pale pink cocktail dress with a short-sleeved, fitted top and ballet-style tulle skirt. The neckline showed just enough cleavage to keep Wallace interested.

Her gaze scanned the interior as she stepped through the door. The space was the typical white box with the floor-to-ceiling paintings hung in predictable rows. A smattering of other partygoers stood about talking to one another or staring at the art.

Mo didn't stop to examine the work but instead went straight for the refreshments. Near the entrance, in front of the plate-glass window, a linen-covered table had been elegantly arranged with platters of finger foods. At one end, manned by a bartender, a selection of hard liquor and wines were on offer. Adding to the ambiance was an eight-taper candelabra used as a centerpiece.

"White wine," she said to the bartender. Although Mo felt like she could use a stiff drink, it would probably have her sliding under the table after only one sip given the day she'd had.

Just as she'd been handed a glass of shimmering golden white liquid, Clarence walked in. Their glances met and he acknowledged her with a swipe of his forefinger against the side of his nose.

Mo rolled her eyes.
Aghhhhhhhh. How many times do I have to tell this guy not to use signals from The Sting?

Clarence pointed to his watch. The idiot was practically telling people he was going to take photos with that thing. Next he'd announce she had a microphone built into her heart necklace. Just then he touched the small plug in his ear before giving a tiny thumbs up.

Oh my Gouda! If he doesn't stop, I'll scream
, Mo thought, whirling away.
I don't know him. I don't know him,
she chanted in her head.

"Angelina," Wallace called from over her shoulder. "You came."

Mo turned to him with a mega-watt smile. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

Wallace reached her side accompanied by an older woman dressed in a flowing multi-colored dress. Her graying black hair hung long over her shoulders.

 
"This is Lucianne Dreshel." Wallace inclined his head toward the older woman. "She's the artist who painted this wonderful work."

"Yes. Lovely." Mo said.

"And Lucianne, let me introduce you to Angelina Jolie," Wallace continued.

"Angelina Jolie?" the woman pinned Mo with a fish-eyed stare.

"Not the famous one, obviously," Mo joked.

"Obviously," Lucianne said. She pointed to the glass in Mo's hand. "How's the wine? Have you had any of the food?"

"Ummm," Mo began.

"That ridiculous caterer," Lucianne interrupted. "This is the last time I'm using him. Cheap wine. Hors d'oeuvres that came out of a Chex Mix box...I paid for good quality." Lucianne gestured at the table wildly as the volume of her voice escalated.

"The wine seems fine," Mo said.

"You don't have to lie," Lucianne shouted at Mo. "I'm going to find that caterer right now." Then she was off toward the back of the gallery.

Wallace chuckled. "Don't mind her. Lucianne is a little highly strung at the best of times. Artistic temperament, I suppose. And this opening has really made her tense."

"How do you know Lucianne?"

"This is embarrassing." Wallace's gaze fell. "I don't like to talk about it."

"Now I
have
to know," Mo said with a laugh. "You can't leave it there."

"Well...I saved her life. She was trapped in her car during a flash flood and I got her out before she drowned."

Mo had to force her jaw closed when she realized it was hanging open. Her thoughts raced "Wow. Do you do that a lot? Save people in flash floods?"

He chuckled. "No. Just the once. Does it require more than once to qualify for something?"

"No," she choked out a laugh. "Once is enough for hero status. Really. That's fantastic."

The silence between them started to feel uncomfortable and Mo searched her brain for a topic. "When did you move here?"

"About three months ago," he answered. "I used to live in California."

"Why did you choose to leave?"

A frown knotted his brows. "Not something I like to talk about."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No," he assured her putting a hand on her arm. "It's just that there are some crazy fans in California. In fact, when you told me your cat was named Bonaparte, like my dog, I wondered about you."

"Huh?" The sudden tension in Mo's stomach made a Gordian knot of her intestines.

"I wondered whether you were some kind of stalker who'd researched me. Like a fan deliberately trying to meet me."

"Ha," Mo said, trying for a teasing tone. "Funny."

He chuckled. "Yes. I could tell after talking to you for a bit that you weren't that kind of nut."

Suddenly, thoughts of two different flash flood victims nagged at Mo.

"Wallace? Would you mind getting Lucianne? I would love to hear more about her art."

The request seemed to startle him but he said, "Sure. Be right back."

The minute he was out of sight behind a cluster of chatting people, Mo marched over to Clarence, grabbed him by the arm, and whispered. "I think the story your friend, Tracy, told us isn't right somehow."

"What do you mean?" Clarence asked.

"She lied about Wallace saving her from drowning."

Clarence snorted a laugh. "Who cares? That doesn't matter."

"There's something wrong," Mo said. "I think we should just cut our losses and leave."

"We can't do that," Clarence said. "I already told Tracy you had a date with Wallace tonight."

"What?" Mo whispered a shout. "You shouldn't have done that."

His eyes fell. "How would I know not to tell her? She asked me. And..."

"And what?" Mo tugged on his arm, pinching as hard as she could.

 
"I'm supposed to report back to her the minute I get home."

"Shitake."

Clarence continued to stare at his feet.

"You didn't tell her where Wallace and I would be, did you?" Mo asked.

"No. Of course not," Clarence sputtered.

At that moment Mo spotted Wallace weaving his way around the increasing crowd. He had Lucianne at his side. After releasing Clarence, Mo replaced her frown with a smile and returned to the food table.

"Here she is," Wallace said with a nod to the artist.

"Yes...Ummm. I was hoping you'd tell me about...ummm...that painting over there." Mo pointed to the nearest one she could see. "The one with the dog running through the field."

Lucianne's lip curled with displeasure. "That's a horse."

"Oh."

When the artist's gaze traveled past her, Mo breathed a sigh of relief.

"No, no, no." Lucianne waved her hands heavenward as she marched around Mo to the food table. "I asked for caviar not cheese whiz on the crackers." Lucianne continued arguing with the bartender about the food with the poor man trying to explain he had nothing to do with that and only knew about the wine and liquor.

"Hmmm," Mo said to Wallace, pointing at the painting. "Horse."

Wallace leaned toward her and whispered conspiratorially, "Looks like a dog to me too."

As Mo was about to take a sip of her wine, Wallace stopped her.

"Wait," he said. "We need to make a toast."

She smiled up at him. "Okay."

Once he had his own glass of wine, they stood glass-to-glass.

"What shall we toast to?" Mo asked.

"First dates," he replied, giving her a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

"Is that what this is?" she teased.

"Absolutely."

They clinked glasses and each took a sip.

Wallace reached out a hand and caressed Mo's jaw line. "And I want to know if we're going to have a second date."