“He was more likely looking for another roast beef sandwich,” Jo said.
“Is that who you came with, Jo?” Loralee asked. “How nice! I always liked Rafe. Didn’t you, Ina Mae?”
“Perhaps this is our chance,” Ina Mae said, “to ask Mr.
Rulenski if he truly plans to put on that highly inappropriate play I heard about next season. Come along, Loralee.” Ina Mae nodded to Morgan and left Jo standing with the off-duty lieutenant.
Morgan waited until the two rounded the corner, then turned to Jo to repeat his original question.
“Talk to who later on?”
Chapter 19
Jo popped the shrimp hors d’oeuvre she had been holding into her mouth, giving herself time to answer the lieutenant’s question. The orchestra in the Jefferson Room began playing a slow tune, and several couples moved onto the dance floor.
“If Ina Mae were still here,” she said, licking a finger, “she might protest that you should correctly ask ‘to whom.’ ”
“All right, Miss Jo. To whom were you planning to speak later?”
“Xavier Ramirez. He’s working in the kitchen tonight. Apparently he’s taking any job available, since Dan’s business has been suffering cancellations.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Russ Morgan did look sorry, and Jo, who had been prepared to relaunch their argument of three days ago, relented.
“But,” Morgan said, “I also noticed you talking with Mallory Holt a minute ago. I’m sure, though, that being the highly considerate person you are, nothing whatsoever concerning what we discussed in my office came up. Am I right?”
“Nothing at all,” Jo acknowledged. “I merely inquired about the status of my shop’s building, wanting to know if Parker Holt had bought it or not. Unfortunately, I didn’t get an answer.”
Morgan nodded.
“Is Mayor Kunkle here tonight?” Jo asked.
“I haven’t seen him. Why?”
“Oh, nothing, except as mayor I would assume he’d attend. Plus, as Mallory’s uncle he would naturally provide support for the ball she’d organized, wouldn’t he? He certainly was very supportive of his niece the night of Holt’s murder. I presume he was just as supportive when he came to see you immediately after I did, possibly to discuss the status of your murder investigation.”
Jo’s last statement ended on a questioning note, and she looked up at Morgan and waited. He returned the look, then grinned.
“Nice try. Tonight, though,” his glance swept over her,
“you don’t quite fit my image of an investigative reporter.” Morgan paused, then turned toward the buffet room. “If your escort is really more interested in the food than in being seen with a beautiful woman on the dance floor, he’s a bigger fool than I thought. Would you care to dance, Miss Jo?”
Jo blinked. Dance? That was not something she’d actually planned on when she’d pictured the evening. Particularly with Russ Morgan. But it was a ball, after all. He was waiting for her response. Would she dance? Maybe the better question was
could
she dance? Would this supersnug cocoon of a dress allow her to dance?
“Yes. Yes, of course,” Jo heard herself saying, and before she knew it she had set her wineglass down and was being led onto the dance floor. Morgan’s arm circled her waist and hers reached for his shoulder. He didn’t pull her too close, which she appreciated since she found herself feeling, for some reason, just a bit breathless. Which was ridiculous. They began to move in unison in time to the music, and Jo found herself smiling, liking the feeling, liking the scent of him. Had he actually called her beautiful? she wondered. Or had he simply thrown the word out there, aiming at no one in particular?
Other couples whirled about them, one middle-aged twosome looking quite proficient. Russ’s dance steps, however, were basic, though firmly on the beat and nicely clear of her toes, which were no small virtues. Jo spotted Donna, the woman from the Pheasant Run beading class wearing her gray dress topped with her nicely done blue and silver beaded necklace, and she caught sight of Loralee at the edge of the room, beaming in her direction.
“The flower decorations really are beautiful,” Jo said.
“Mmm,” Morgan responded, taking a moment as though he had just realized there
were
flower decorations.
“You said you were off duty tonight. Does that mean the evening is purely social, or are you here semiofficially as a representative of the Abbotsville police force?” She wanted to add, “And are you here alone or with a date, possibly that very attractive woman whose cheek I saw you kiss?” but didn’t.
“It’s never purely one thing or another,” Morgan said. “If people know who I am, I’m therefore representing the police to some extent.”
“That makes it rather hard to relax, I imagine.”
“Oh, I find ways,” Morgan said with a smile.
It was a very nice smile, Jo thought. She seemed to be seeing more of it lately, and liked that. The music, though, which they had come in on late, ended and she didn’t like that. Couples scattered, and Morgan led her off the dance floor. He seemed about to say something when, to Jo’s consternation, Alexis Wigsley suddenly popped up.
“I
thought
that was you on the dance floor,” she cried to Jo. “I told myself no, that can’t be Jo McAllister, but it was! And Lieutenant Morgan! So you came together?”
“Ms. McAllister simply honored me with a dance,” Russ said.
“Oooh,” Alexis said simperingly, causing Jo to cringe. “I wanted to tell you,” she said, moving closely to Jo, “remember that girlfriend of Randy’s I mentioned the other day? She’s here!”
“Excuse me, ladies,” Russ said—unfortunately, to Jo’s mind, taking this as his cue to leave. Did he believe she was bosom buddies with Alexis Wigsley? “If I see Rafe, I’ll tell him where you are,” he said, and Jo helplessly watched him walk away.
Alexis took hold of her arm and leaned even closer. “Lisa Williams. She’s that waitress over there.” Alexis pointed to the ponytailed food server circulating through the crowd.
“That’s Lisa?” Jo asked. She glanced back to see that Russ had disappeared. “She came up to me once or twice in the buffet room. She seems nice,” Jo said, wishing she could shake Alexis off her arm.
“She is!” Alexis agreed. “A perfectly decent woman, and there she is going out with someone like Randy Truitt! I took the opportunity to take her aside and have a little talk with her, explaining that for her own good she needs to drop him like a hot potato.”
“You said that to her?” Jo asked, horrified. “Now? When she’s working?”
“Certainly! And the sooner she takes the advice, the better. The man will only drag her down. Lisa may not be the brightest, or beauty pageant material, but there’s no need to waste her time like that. Someone has to steer her away from trouble if she’s not seeing it herself.”
“She seems old enough to make decisions of that sort for herself,” Jo said, stiffly.
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Alexis said, clearly not picking up on Jo’s meaning. “But despite being, oh, way over thirty, she’s clearly still thinking like a teenager, which is what probably got her into those few problems in the past. Like that one incident, for instance—”
“Excuse me, Alexis, I promised to get back to someone about this time.” Jo made a move in the direction of the buffet room.
“Oh, certainly,” Alexis said, but her fingers pressed into Jo’s arm even harder. “But before you leave, did you know
that man
is here? The one the police have been questioning in connection with Parker Holt’s death? I saw him myself, in this very kitchen!”
“What were you doing in the kitchen?” Jo asked, amazed at the amount of ground Alexis was able to cover.
“I went to speak with the chef, of course, to inquire if any of the foods contained MSG. Monosodium glutamate gives me terrible headaches, you know, all quite avoidable if the chef simply uses natural seasonings. Anyway, there this man was, working at the sink, scrubbing up pots. I can’t imagine Mallory is aware of that, can you? Have you spoken to her yet?”
“Yes, and please, Alexis, don’t say anything to her about Xavier being here. He’s simply trying to earn a few dollars, which he needs badly, and Mallory doesn’t need to know anything about it.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. But then again, Mallory doesn’t seem all that concerned, does she, about finding the person who murdered her husband? I mean, she could hardly get Parker in the ground fast enough, and here she is flitting about, with that artist friend of hers here too. They didn’t actually come together, you know, but they haven’t been more than ten feet apart all night.”
“You seem quite aware of everything going on here tonight.”
Alexis took Jo’s comment as a compliment, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve never been one to just stand in the corner and ignore the world around me. Life is just too fascinating! Oh, by the way, Jo, I’ve made progress on tracking down Max McGee.”
“You have?” That was something Jo wanted to hear.
“Yes. I haven’t learned exactly where he is right now, but I discovered he had a knee replacement recently. It was more difficult to go through than he had expected and he decided to treat himself to a vacation in the Bahamas. But I’m still working on precisely where and for how long.”
“Great.” Jo didn’t ask how Alexis managed to get that far, and at the moment didn’t really want to know. “Let me know when you find out.”
“I certainly will. Now Jo,” Alexis said, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I really can’t.” She released Jo’s arm and began to move away, then stopped. “Oh, who did you say brought you to the ball?”
Feeling the woman deserved that little innocuous nugget in return for her work on Max McGee, Jo told her.
Alexis nodded, then looked across the room. “Well, there’s Heather Bannister. And with her husband. How interesting. I wonder if Mallory is aware
she’s
here?” And with that she hurried off, leaving Jo to breathe a sigh of relief and free to reconnect with Rafe.
She found him, not surprisingly, near the buffet table, chatting with an attractive young woman, his plate holding a fresh selection of edibles. He turned as Jo came up.
“Oh, there you are. Jo, I don’t believe you’ve met Tara Miesner.” The two acknowledged each other, and Rafe explained, “Tara is interested in trying out for one of our future plays.”
Jo smiled and wished her the best of luck. She hoped for Rafe’s sake that Tara worked out. He was in need of strong leading actors after what the playhouse had suffered last fall.
“Excuse me,” Jo said. “I think I’ll try a couple more things from the buffet.” Jo’s stomach had begun reminding her she hadn’t eaten much before Rafe picked her up, and that the single strawberry and hors d’oeuvre wasn’t doing it.
She took a plate and began filling it with various goodies—caviar, stuffed tomatoes, pasta salads—glancing around occasionally for any sign of Russ Morgan but not finding it. She wished she had managed to learn if he’d come with someone to the ball. Alexis would find out by the end of the evening, Jo was sure, but she had no intention of seeking the woman out to ask. Jo had just scooped up a forkful of pasta when she spotted Mallory Holt heading toward her. Mallory looked somewhat less hostessy than she had on their initial meeting, and Jo wondered what was up.
Mallory simply said, “Come with me,” and drew Jo by the arm to a quiet spot in the corner of the room.
Jo assumed Mallory intended to finish their original conversation that had been interrupted, and so complied without protest. She was completely taken aback, therefore, when instead Mallory turned blazing eyes on her and asked in an ominously low voice: “What do you mean by pretending to be someone you’re not, to get into Sebastian’s studio?”
Uh-oh, Jo thought. Sebastian Zarnik had obviously spotted her and asked questions. Jo decided to play it cool.
“What do
you
mean? I never pretended to be anyone other than Jo McAllister.”
“Oh, really? And do you intend to commission a painting from Sebastian? Or buy one of his finished works? Your little craft shop must be doing extremely well if that’s the case.”
“I appreciate art,” Jo protested. “If Mr. Zarnik’s prices were higher than I expected or more than I can afford right now, I at least enjoyed seeing his work.”
“Don’t tell me that! You misled him completely. I don’t know what you think you’re getting away with, but rest assured, you won’t. Sebastian doesn’t appreciate such tricks, nor do I.”
Mallory paused ominously. “If you were at all worried,” she said, “about your building having been bought, Ms. McAllister, your worries have just increased tenfold. I suggest you start looking around for a new shop location, and the farther from Abbotsville the better.”
Jo felt her jaw drop.
As quickly as Mallory had spit that out, so did her face rapidly change from an expression of fury to one of total ease. “Yes, that would be wonderful, Ms. McAllister. Let’s follow up on that. Delia!” she called to a woman passing nearby. “Just the person I was looking for. I wanted to ask . . .”