B004183M70 EBOK (33 page)
Authors: Rosemary Stevens
A shiver went through me. Pierre had lied when he said that
Suzie had accepted his ring.
"Miss Bennett?"
"Pierre Benoit and Jeff Granford are my main suspects.
Pierre has a temper, is known for having unstable relationships with women,
and he lied about being engaged to Suzie. Assuming he was jealous enough over
Suzie's dating Mr. Williams, he could have gone to her apartment and murdered
her." The more I talked about it, the more Pierre seemed like the killer.
"Possibly."
"Then there's Jeff Granford. We've already discussed
his motives: jealousy, his feeling of ownership over Suzie. I haven't had time
yet to go down to his apartment and question him. I guess I'll do it
tomorrow."
Finelli's voice grew stern. "I wouldn't advise you to go
near Granford. I mean it, Miss Bennett."
"Why don't you take these men in for questioning?"
I asked, desperation in my voice.
"I've told you, the department is working the
case."
"How? You arrested Mr. Williams. That's all I've seen
you do. And now I'm going out tonight on a dinner date with Pierre, who could
be a killer."
"I'd advise against that."
"Yet you won't lock Pierre and Granford up like you did
Mr. Williams," I argued.
"Put on your party dress, Miss Bennett," Finelli
said before hanging up on me.
Party dress it was then.
"Don't argue with me. You're wearing it," Darlene
said.
We were in my room in front of the full-length mirror. I had
on a pale pink silk shantung A-line dress, sleeveless with a scooped neck. The
top of the dress had clusters of silver beading ending with pink beads at the
Empire waistline.
"Darlene, I appreciate your offer to let me borrow your
diamond necklace," I began, practically drooling over the expensive,
glittering stones. "But—"
"But nothing. You're going to Sardi's! You must wear
diamonds," Darlene insisted, moving my hair to one side and clasping the
necklace around my throat.
I looked in the mirror and gasped. "Oh, my."
"See, Marilyn Monroe was right. Diamonds are a girl's
best friend."
"What if someone tries to rob me and take the necklace?
And I don't have a wrap that goes with this dress."
"Stop! You'll be with Pierre—"
"Who's probably the killer—"
"And Stu had the necklace insured for me."
I blew air into my bangs. "Thank heavens. I feel like a
princess in these."
"Cole was good for something," she said.
We laughed and I said, "That's naughty," which made
us laugh harder.
The buzzer sounded.
Darlene grinned. "Right on time. Order
the filet mignon and get Pierre's confession. Good luck, honey."
I took a deep breath. "I have to clear
Bradley, Darlene, I just have to. But I feel bad misleading Pierre this way.
He's truly interested in me—"
"Sshh. Don't get tears in your eyes
now. You'll do your best. Pierre's a big boy. He'll get over any feelings he
has for you. Have you done anything to lead him on? What if he really is the
killer, Bebe?"
"No, I haven't encouraged his personal
attentions. It's been business and Bradley. That's how I'm justifying this
date with Pierre."
"Good girl. If you can't get him to
confess, we'll simply put him in one of my girdles and hold him hostage until
he breaks," Darlene said, and grinned.
"Good idea!"
Downstairs, Pierre kissed both my cheeks.
"I have never seen you more beautiful, my cherie. You were born to wear
diamonds." Then he bent and whispered in my ear, "And I want to be
the one to give them to you."
"Pierre, you're so kind," I said,
figuring I'd have to update the "Confessions" section of my notebook
for lying.
"I could give you everything you ever
dreamed of, Bebe," he said, opening the cab door.
Maybe he could, but not in the way he
thought. If Pierre confessed to killing Suzie, Bradley would not be railroaded
into jail. Bradley's freedom, the clearing of his name—that was what I wanted
more than anything.
Pierre had left his beret at home. I caught
myself staring at his thin brown hair. No wonder he covered it up. He wore a
black suit, black shirt, and a black tie.
We chatted about Saint Thomas on the cab
ride over to Sardi's.
"Your photos are magnificent, Bebe.
They bring out your irresistible combination of innocence and sensuality. The
Durden people will be happily surprised-as I have been, to find someone so soon after Suzie's
death."
"I hope the Durden people are
happy." Bradley, though, would have a fit.
"I have arranged for a messenger
tomorrow to bring the photos to whoever is in charge now at Ryan," Pierre
informed me.
Oh, boy. Maybe I could intercept them, send
them straight to the Durden people myself without Bradley ever seeing me in
that black bikini.
Excitement took over when the cab pulled in
front of the restaurant. A big green neon sign proclaimed
SARDI'S
, and in smaller letters,
restaurant
, and
cocktails
.
Inside I was dazzled by the gleaming wood,
the famous celebrity caricatures, and the hearty greeting Pierre received by
the maitre d' who guided us to an elegant table for two. People nodded at
Pierre and he smiled back, but he stopped for no one.
Once seated, I became conscious of people
staring at me. Did they think I was Pierre's new girlfriend? Pierre certainly
thought so.
After consulting at great length with the
waiter, who brought the wine list, Pierre decided on a French champagne. I
didn't even want to think about what it cost.
Following Darlene's suggestion, I ordered
the filet mignon from my menu, which did not list prices. I loved being a woman
dining in an expensive restaurant, not worrying about prices!
Pierre chose
cannelloni au gratin
, Sardi's
specialty, which turned out to be a French crepe with sherry sauce.
We chatted about New York. I couldn't hide
how much I loved the city, all the places I had yet to see, and Pierre
approved. "Virginia bored you. I can understand."
I felt decadent in Darlene's diamonds,
drinking the most delicious champagne and eating the best food I'd ever tasted.
In order to get Pierre's confession, I allowed myself to become a little tipsy, but not so much that
I didn't feel in control.
Just about to launch into my questioning, I
saw something that made my eyes widen. Bradley and model Evelyn Miller were
being seated at a table across the aisle and two up from Pierre and me. Bradley,
in a white dinner jacket that almost made me faint, sat facing me, though he
didn't look my way. I fixed my gaze at the napkin in my lap, not sure whether
to smile or go over and punch him. He had overheard my plans to dine here with
Pierre and had come to keep an eye on me. Didn't he think I could take care of
myself?
Bradley's entrance did not go unnoted by
Pierre.
"Mon dieu," he sneered.
"Cannot I go anywhere without that man reminding me of Suzie's murder? We
shall ignore him and take pleasure in this time together."
I was going to have to play along with him.
"Speaking of Suzie, what was Gloria talking about today when she said you
had a love-hate relationship with your girlfriends, Pierre?" I asked
innocently, running my tongue across my upper lip.
Bradley opened his napkin with a loud snap.
Pierre reached his left arm across the
table and took my free hand. "I'm a passionate man, cherie. You know
that."
I kept my hand in his. "But I don't
know how bad your temper can be. I'm afraid."
"How can I reassure you? I will give
you an example of my feelings." Pierre scowled. "I could not like
what Louis said about kissing you. Is it true?"
"It was nothing. He merely brushed my
lips."
"I shall never photograph him
again," Pierre announced.
As angry as I was at Louis for trying to
use me to get ahead at Ryan, I said, "Don't do that to him, Pierre. I'm
not going out with him again."
Pierre swallowed champagne, his thumb
moving over the back of my hand.
I slanted a glance at Bradley. He held a
martini, the sight of which brought back the last time I'd seen him drink
one—in his office—and I felt myself blush.
"Ah, there is that pretty color in
your face, Bebe. Do not return to Ryan. Come to me," Pierre said slowly
and seductively, not even bothering to mention a job.
Daddy would have beaten Pierre to a pulp if
he'd heard him.
Here we go. "Pierre," I said,
instilling my voice with confusion, "how can I? I must know a man's
history with women before I can make a commitment. Please try to understand.
I've had a sheltered upbringing."
A gleam entered his eye. "And you have
not dated much, nor had a lover?"
I gasped. "A lover? Certainly
not."
Almost, though.
His fervor grew; I could see it shining in
his eyes. "What do you want to know about me, cherie? Did you read my
biography at the gallery showing? It was there I first noticed you."
Liar. He'd had eyes only for Suzie and the
other celebrities. "Yes, I read it. I'm impressed with your ambition, and
how you've overcome horrible odds," I replied. That much was true.
"Tell me, at Debbie Ann's shoot today, Lola mentioned someone named
Kiki."
I saw Evelyn bang her fist on the table to
get Bradley's attention.
Our waiter chose that moment to clear our
plates and hand us the dessert menu.
"Order the New York cheesecake,
Bebe," Pierre suggested.
"I couldn't eat it, but thank
you."
"If only one bite crosses your pink
lips, I shall take great delight in watching you savor the richness,"
Pierre cajoled.
"Very well," I replied. When the
waiter left, I said, "We were talking about Kiki."
Pierre released my hand and sat back in his
chair.
"How can I explain Kiki? She was eighteen, wild, and
lived for cocaine and parties."
"Cocaine? Oh, dear," I
sympathized, trying to hide my shock.
Pierre looked away. "Part French, part
Italian, she was like no one else. Her beauty lay in the wildness, the free
spirit that shone through the camera lens like a mermaid luring ships to
shore."
High drama there, I thought. "Did you
argue?"
"Of course. I wanted her off drugs,
but I couldn't tame her. She broke my heart when she took cocaine and went
nightclubbing, not coming home for days. Then one evening I returned late from
a dinner with friends. There were policemen, an ambulance—" He broke off,
tears in his eyes.
"Kiki was dead?"
He nodded, pulling his handkerchief out of
his suit coat pocket and wiping his face. "She had fallen off the roof of
our building. I know people say she killed herself. It's not true, Bebe. Kiki
had pots and pots of flowers on the roof. We used to go up there and talk, look
at the stars. I believe she went to the roof to wait for me and fell. The
coroner told me she had cocaine in her system."
"What a tragic accident," I said,
thinking Kiki and Pierre might have had an argument, and he pushed her.
"What about Lola?"
Pierre leaned closer to the table as the
waiter brought our cheesecake and coffee.
Picking up his dessert fork, Pierre waved
it in the air. "That one. You know her. Who could get along with that
drunk? She used me. Our relationship was short, a year perhaps. Then Suzie came
into my life."
While Pierre savored another bite of
cheesecake, I dared a glance at Bradley. He had another martini in his hand.
Evelyn didn't appear to be happy. Although I could make out only her profile,
she spoke angrily to him, while Bradley was the picture of cool.
I took a bite of cheesecake, which was
delicious. I licked my lips, then noticed both Pierre and Bradley staring at me. I marshaled my forces and went in for the
attack. I faced Pierre. "I can understand why your association with Suzie
was one of love-hate. She was a beautiful woman, but cared for no one."
Pierre set his fork down. "What do you
mean? Suzie told me she loved me. She brought out more passion in me than has
any other woman."
"I'm sure Suzie loved you. In her way.
But over time, a man of your intelligence, your sensitivity, must have realized
she was only using you, like Lola had."
Tiny beads of perspiration broke out on
Pierre's forehead.
"Suzie wasn't loyal even before she
met Mr. Williams. Is loyalty something you don't require in a relationship,
Pierre?"
"Of course I demand loyalty," he
responded.
I nodded. "Then I can understand why
Gloria said you had a love-hate relationship with Suzie. It was an open secret
that she still saw Scott Roberts, her old photographer."