I looked up to see Luke standing in the doorway, smirking. He was a thin, gangly boy, with good skin, prominent cheekbones, and deep-set dark eyes. He might have been good-looking except for the weak chin and the perpetual smirk and cock-of-the-walk attitude that was, as far as I knew, totally unwarranted.

  “You wanted to see me, Mrs. Grady?” He stepped into the office and half turned to shut the door behind him.

  “Leave the door open, please,” I said in my best stern, no-nonsense boss voice. I didn’t want any misunderstandings here.

  One eyebrow rose, he shrugged, and stepped farther into the room. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against a wall. “Okay.”

  “Take a seat,” I said.

  “Okay.” He sat.

  I studied his face. I saw arrogance, rudeness, not a lot of intelligence. I didn’t see fear or guilt.

  Underneath the cover of my desk I wiped my hands on my skirt. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  Oh, well. He was here now.

  “Gloria Grant claims to have—shall we say—lost . . . a bracelet. A diamond bracelet.”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed. “So?”

  “She wore it to the private dinner on Monday evening and hasn’t seen it since. You remember the dinner, Luke. You were the waiter.”

  Something jumped behind his eyes. “I don’t know about any bracelet.”

  “She remembers having it on when she left the dining room and went to the ballroom. It was, as I’m sure you’ll remember, a very social evening. Lots of people coming and going, well-wishers dropping by her chair for a chat, couples dancing.”

  “I didn’t see anyone take her bracelet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “She says the last time she definitely remembers having the bracelet was moments before you, Luke, escorted Miss Marsden back to their table after you and she had a dance.”

  Luke might not be too bright, but he had good instinct for self-preservation. He understood what I was saying and leapt to his feet. “I never took any bracelet. The ditzy old broad lost it, and you’re accusing me ’cause I’m the best scapegoat.”

  “Please don’t talk about our guests that way,” I said sternly. “Miss Grant clearly remembers that you brushed against her arm. She also remembers looking up at you and giving you a smile because, let’s be honest here, Luke, she thinks you’re most charming.”

  That was a lie and a half. I hoped to knock Luke off guard, and it worked. He preened, one eye lowered in a half wink, and he gave me what he probably thought was a charming grin. “What about you, Mrs. G.? Do you think that too?”

  “What I think doesn’t matter. Miss Grant wants her bracelet back. She won’t report its disappearance to the police, as long as it’s returned. No questions asked.”

  “I don’t know anything about any bracelet. Like I said, she’s a spoiled old b—woman. The clasp was probably wonky and it fell off and she was too drunk to notice. She had a heck of a lot that night; they all did. Heck, that old guy died. I spoke to the cops about it: told them I couldn’t help them. One of the busboys must have found the bracelet, snatched it up, and stuck it into his pocket. It’s long gone by now.” He shrugged and started to stand. “Sorry I can’t help with that, Mrs. Grady. If you need anything else . . .”

  “Sit down,” I said.

  Such was my tone, he dropped back down.

  “I don’t intend to forget about it, or to ask no further questions. I’ve reported the theft to the police and they’re taking it seriously. The reputation of this hotel, of all the hotels in Summervale, is of utmost importance to the local authorities. As was mentioned, a large number of people were in that room the night in question, but not many people were physically close enough to Miss Grant to loosen her bracelet, remove it from her wrist, and drop it into a purse or pocket unnoticed.” I looked at Luke.

  Beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead. All the arrogance had fled, leaving a frightened boy behind. I almost felt sorry for him. Luke feared he was about to be accused of something he didn’t do, something that hadn’t even happened.

  Would he try to get out of the theft charge by admitting to having slipped something into Elias’s drinks? Easy enough to claim he hadn’t known what was in the . . . whatever it was. That someone had asked him to play a trick on the director.

  “I’m talking to you, Luke, because you’ve obviously sold the bracelet and used the proceeds to buy that car. I asked Miss Grant the value of the bracelet and the sum she mentioned was about what a car like that one of yours would cost. If you confess, I’ll ask the police to go easy on you.”

  Luke was attending Columbia Law School. His future in the law, I decided, was dim. He had the most readable face I’d ever encountered. At my words, every line of tension simply melted away. A spark came back into his eyes and his shoulders relaxed. The edges of his mouth lifted in a sneer. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. Grady. I didn’t buy that car. It isn’t mine.”

  “You didn’t? It isn’t?”

  “Nope. Buddy of mine who works at Kutsher’s had to leave the area suddenly. He said I could look after his car for him while he’s away.”

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s good to hear.” Reading between the lines, I suspected Luke’s buddy was spending some time in jail and needed someone to keep the car running in his absence. Unlikely he wanted Luke to offer rides to every influential man or pretty woman at our hotel, but that was none of my concern. Where the friend got the car was none of my concern either, nor was the possibility that it would soon be repossessed.

  “If you don’t believe me,” Luke said, “I can show you the registration papers.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Thank you for coming in and talking to me. I’m glad we cleared this up.” I picked up my pencil.

  Luke stood. “I’ll keep an eye out for that bracelet, okay?”

  “Bracelet? Oh, the bracelet, right.”

  He almost sprinted out of my office. So shaken was he, he didn’t even offer to take me for a ride in the car.

  I felt rather pleased with myself as I firmly shut the office door behind him. The possibility that Luke had put the poison into Elias’s drink was still there, but I had to consider it unlikely. I might be wrong, but I didn’t think the waiter had that much guile in him to be able to bluff me so effectively. He was vain, and strutting and arrogant. If that car did belong to him, he’d never be able to bring himself to say it didn’t, no matter the consequences.

  I had the fan on high and the window open, but the heat was steadily building. Feeling as though I’d roast if I didn’t do something about it, I loosened my belt, pulled off my stockings and girdle, and stuffed the offending garments in my drawer under a pile of hotel brochures. I then went back to work.

  I hadn’t spent long checking over the kitchen expenses (exorbitant) when my phone rang. I picked it up. “Mrs. Grady.”

  “Frank Steinberg, Los Angeles Times. Does Haggerman’s Catskills Resort have a comment about the autopsy report on Mr. Elias Theropodous?”

  “What? I mean . . . we’re sorry about the man’s death, but he wasn’t a guest of Haggerman’s.”

  “I’ve been told he died after a party at your place.”

  “Lots of people were at that party, and none of them took ill. I was at that party, and I am in perfect health. Good day.” I hung up. The phone rang again.

  “Mrs. Grady.”

  “This is Jane Donaldson, New York Morning Standard. I’m hoping I can come around and have an interview with you, Elizabeth. Earlier today, Chief Dawson said—”

  Click.

  I called the switchboard. “I thought I left instructions not to put through any calls from newspaper reporters.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Grady. Those last callers didn’t identify themselves.”

  “If it is reporters, tell them I am not available. If they ask to speak to anyone else, you are to tell them we are all unavailable.”

  “How’m I gonna know if they’re newspaper people?”

  “Ask them! Ask everyone!” I slammed the phone into the cradle and took a deep breath. I picked up the phone again, and said, “Mr. Jim Westenham is an exception. I’ll speak to him if he calls.”

  I got up and marched to the office door. “Darlene!”

  The clerk’s head popped up. She blinked at me from inside a cloud of smoke. Everyone else stopped what they were doing to watch.

  “I want a memo prepared for the attention of all staff. See that it’s posted everywhere, absolutely everywhere staff will see it but guests will not. Anyone found to have given a statement to a newspaper reporter without my personal approval will be fired on the spot.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Grady.”

  I looked around the room. “Did you all get that?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Grady.”

  * * *

  * * *

  It was only when I stretched and stood up, ready to switch out the lights, get properly dressed once again, and head home, that I realized I’d forgotten to tell Dave what I’d heard about Gary and the job of director.

  I hadn’t forgotten what I’d learned about the marital situation of Todd Thompson, but I had absolutely no idea what to do with that information. Velvet would not thank me for interfering.

  Chapter 17

  “What would you do,” I said to my mother as I helped myself to mashed potatoes, “if you knew a friend of yours was considering making a big mistake, and you knew it was a big mistake but the reason you know is that you went behind her back to find out what was going on.”

  “Oh, lastachka,” Aunt Tatiana said. “Like when you married Ron Grady.”

  “Why was that a mistake?” Olivia asked. “I thought Ron was lovely. Such a charmer.” She turned to Gloria. “Elizabeth’s husband died in the war. He was a true American hero. Such a tragedy, they’d only married a few weeks before he left for Europe.”

  “My condolences,” Gloria said. “So many women lost so much.”

  I concentrated on cutting my pork chop and avoided Tatiana’s eyes. I’d always suspected Aunt Tatiana knew more than she’d ever let on about my whirlwind wartime romance and quickie marriage.

  “What would being honest accomplish?” my aunt said in answer to my question. “A woman will do what she believes she must when she is in love, and she will forget all bonds of friendship and of family if it is necessary to do so to maintain her illusions.”

  “And such,” Gloria said, lifting her wineglass in a toast, “is the stuff of great movies. You should come to Hollywood with me, Tatiana. I can find you work as a scriptwriter.”

  “Pshaw,” said my aunt. Winston had settled himself at her feet, apparently snoozing but on the alert in case anything fell off the table.

  We four women were having dinner at our house. The heat of the day had scarcely dispersed when the sun went down, and the air was so sticky it was almost physical. The windows were thrown open to let in the soft breeze off the lake, and two fans had been set up at opposite sides of the room. I’d gratefully torn off my dress and undergarments and dressed for a casual dinner in shorts and an open-necked, short-sleeved cotton blouse.

  Gloria had declared that she was not in the mood to go up to the hotel and be charming to everyone who interrupted her meal wanting an autograph, and so Olivia suggested dinner in, and invited Tatiana, Velvet, and me to join them.

  Velvet, Olivia told me, had declined because she’d taken the night off and was dining at Kennelwood. I didn’t care for the sound of that, but I said nothing.

  “I’ll talk to Velvet if you want me to,” Gloria said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  She pushed her unfinished plate of food aside, leaned back in her chair, and reached for the pack of cigarettes at her elbow. “I assume that’s who you’re talking about. It’s obvious Velvet is falling under Todd’s spell. I am aware that Todd is not, shall we say, quite what he appears, although I’m contractually forbidden from saying more than that.”

  “Elizabeth knows,” Olivia said.

  “Knows what?” Tatiana asked.

  “How do you know I know?” I said to Olivia. “Were you listening at the window earlier?”

  “Of course I was listening at the window earlier. Don’t pretend to be so shocked, Elizabeth. You can hear a squirrel rolling over in its sleep through the walls of this house. If you wanted privacy you and Jim should have gone for a walk. Come to think of it, you and Jim should take a walk more often. A nice, quiet, private walk. If you know what I mean.”

  “I do not,” I said. “This chop is tough. I’m going to suggest Chef Leonardo find a new pork supplier.”

  “It’s not the meat, it’s the cook,” Aunt Tatiana said. “When we first arrived, I offered to teach him to prepare good, solid Russian food, and I thought he was going to explode with rage. Man’s a fool.” She scooped up a forkful of potatoes.

  “If by Jim, you’re talking about that newspaperman,” Gloria said around a plume of smoke, “he’s quite handsome. Is he courting you, dear?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Not because of any lack of interest on his part,” Olivia said.

  “Potatoes have too much butter,” Aunt Tatiana said.

  “No such thing as too much butter,” I said. “Jim and I are friends. That’s all.”

  “Do you want me to talk to Velvet?” Gloria asked again. “Over the years, I’ve met more than a few beautiful women who arrive in Hollywood full of dreams and end up brokenhearted and on the street.”

  “As have I,” Olivia said. “Plenty of men out there ready to take advantage of girls and their dreams. Velvet has a good head on her shoulders. She’s no fool.”

  “Any woman is a fool if she thinks a bad man loves her,” Gloria said. “How old is she?”

  “Same as me,” I said. “Twenty-seven.”

  “Too old to get her start in Hollywood,” Gloria said. “I’ll tell her not to waste her time.”

  My mother pushed her meat around on her plate. “It’s a hard business, acting. The only one harder is dancing.”

  “It’s harder working in a hotel laundry, O,” Aunt Tatiana said. Olivia refuses to answer to her birth name of Olga, considering it too common, not to mention too Russian. Tatiana refuses to call her sister Olivia, considering the change of name to be an insult to their parents and their proud Russian heritage. So they compromised, and Aunt Tatiana always simply calls my mother O.

  “You know what I mean,” Olivia said.

  “Maybe don’t mention anything to Velvet,” I said. “Not yet. We’ll see what happens. Filming’s wrapping up soon, isn’t it?”

  “We have two days at the bungalow colony and then, provided the rushes are satisfactory, it’s back to the city and into the studio. As the plan is now, I have only one more scene myself, when Todd returns from the war and visits his grandmother, but scripts change all the time. I hope this awful heat breaks soon. If it’s this hot in the mountains, it must be positively unbearable in the city.” She crushed her cigarette out in the plate in front of her, next to the abandoned pork chop and mashed potatoes.

  “Anyone for dessert?” Olivia said. “I specially requested the angel food cake tonight. More wine, Gloria?”

  Over dinner, I debated whether to tell the women what I’d learned from Dave Dawson, but as the contents of the wine bottle went down, and we chatted and laughed, I decided not to. The autopsy results would be in the papers tomorrow, and we were having a nice evening tonight. No one, least of all me, wanted to think about poison being slipped into someone’s drink.

  I got to my feet and began gathering up the dishes. The phone rang as I passed it heading for the kitchen, and I dropped my load on the counter and answered.

  “Elizabeth. I’m glad I caught you,” Richard Kennelwood said.

  “I’m having a relaxing night in. What’s up?”

  “We had a fire in the kitchen.”

  “A fire! Is everyone okay? Do you need anything from us?”

  Olivia, Tatiana, and Gloria caught the word fire and stopped talking to listen.

  “We’re all fine, thanks. No one was hurt, and not too much damage,” Richard said. I gave the watching women a thumbs-up, and their faces crumpled in relief.

  “As for needing anything, that’s why I’m calling. The fire was in the baking kitchen. We lost all our bread and most of the baked goods intended for tomorrow, and the oven has been damaged. My chefs’ll be cooking all night. We’re supposed to be catering lunch for the film crew tomorrow at Sparkling Waters, and we can’t manage that as well as catch up on what’s needed here. I was wondering if you could do it?”

  I thought quickly. “I can’t see it, Richard. Dinner’s over at the hotel and the chef might have left for the day. The saladman will be preparing the evening’s dessert buffet, but if I consult him and not the chef, I’ll have a war on my hands. I can’t commit to using their supplies and their workers without talking it over with the both of them. I have an idea. How much does it pay?”

  He named a handsome sum, and I said, “Can I call you back?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  I pressed the button on the phone’s cradle to disconnect the call, released my finger, and called the switchboard. “Can you put me through to the Red Spot Diner in Summervale, please?”

  “Connecting you now, Mrs. Grady.”

  “Hello?” Lucinda said.

  “How would you like to earn some extra money?”

  * * *

  * * *

  I set my alarm clock for the unimaginable hour of 6:00 a.m. When it sounded, I switched it off quickly, conscious of Velvet’s light breathing coming from the bed. I’d made arrangements with Lucinda and Aunt Tatiana for catering the movie crew, and it had been late when I finally said my good nights to Gloria and Olivia and made my way to Velvet’s room in the staff quarters.