Keeping Mum (A Garden Society Mystery) (20 page)

Hopefully, because Rob knew what she was doing with the bartending gig, he wouldn’t be upset this time. That reminded her of the very steamy, if slightly medicated, kiss she’d once shared with Dylan. A secret she intended to take to her grave.

Cam chose a shortish black skirt and white cotton blouse for the night. She figured she looked like a waitress in it. Overly traditional would be the only criticism, and probably not a lot of that, as she was showing some leg.

Annie let herself in while Cam was dressing and lectured Cam on safety, hanging a thin rope around her neck with a small container of mace at the end before she left again. Cam wondered when Annie had become the paranoid one, but then remembered that their past investigations had gone a lot worse for Annie than Cam, and it couldn’t hurt to have this just in case.

Dylan had agreed to pick her up to go to the “casino,” which wasn’t a casino at all, but a lush game room in one of the fancier homes west of Roanoke. At seven, he arrived and they drove to Copperbrook to set up. It was a strange name for a manor, but Cam was willing to bet that money from copper mining had paid for the place.

A maid let them in and led them through to the back of the house. The room was decorated in dark wood with thick-cushioned, tapestry-covered furniture. It was semicircular and had windows with a view of the Blue Mountains on the south side, though it was only a silhouette, as the sun had set just before they arrived. More impressive to Cam was the view to the east of a large greenhouse filled with a variety of flowers and vegetables. Drawn, she moved toward it and peered through the glass. Though the light of the day was fading, she saw one corner with tropical flowers—African violets and bird of paradise—that were still under lights. Nearer to her were orchids and hibiscus on one wall and tomatoes on the other. Someone loved both flowers and fresh food.

“Ahem!”

Cam started and turned back around to find Dylan, ready to instruct her.

The bar was an old-fashioned one, pretty big for somebody’s home. There was room for half a dozen tables, but at the moment, there was clearly only one table that mattered. A large round table with a felt top trimmed in wood sat at the center of the room, all others pushed to the periphery. She wondered if it had come from Atlantic City or something. It had an air of being expensive and seedy at the same time.

“You ever tend bar before?” Dylan asked.

“No.”

“Well-drinks . . . you know what those are, right?”

“One liquor, one mixer.”

“Right. You can probably do those. One third alcohol, two thirds mixer for most—half and half at the main table. High-end booze allows us to charge more, so use it for everyone, unless they give you a brand. Then do what they want. Beer and wine are easy. You get any mixed-drink orders, otherwise tell me.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t ask any questions. That going to screw you up?”

“I was actually just hoping to observe.”

“Yeah. That’s better. But try not to be too obvious about it. It’s not like these people want their business in the tabloids, so they’re paying attention to who’s paying attention, if you know what I mean.”

That worried Cam. She’d sort of thought, as a waitress, she would fly under the radar.

“So how many people are usually here?” she asked.

“Five or six players at the main table. Anywhere between nobody and a dozen watching. If the main game isn’t too big a deal, sometimes there’s another game or two at the other tables.”

“And are they going to be okay with two bartenders?”

“I expect the higher-end turnout tonight. Sully’s death will bring some more people out of respect, so they’ll be glad I anticipated and they don’t have to wait for drinks.”

“So they’re gambling? With a dead friend?”

“Well, sure. It’s what they did with him. How better to pay their respects? Probably more girls, too.”

“But playing, it’s all men?”

“All but one time that I ever saw. That Ellie was a firecracker.”

“Ellie? Elle Chamberlain Schulz?”

Dylan shrugged.

“Was she Sully’s sister?”

Cam could see recognition cross his face. “Yeah. I think she was.”

“That’s Annie’s stepmother.”

He stared at her like she’d just grown a third eye.

“How often has she been here?” Cam asked.

“Only once that I was, but everybody knew her so I figured she’d been here a couple times before.”

“You don’t think she’ll be here tonight, do you?”

“I have no idea.”

Cam thought about Elle and her very recent reconciliation with her husband and doubted it. Elle had bigger things to manage, even if she was grieving for her brother.

They were set up early, as Dylan was used to working alone, so Cam took a soft rag and began to wipe the brass rail that ran around the base of the bar. She had just finished when the first players began arriving.

Cam listened and let Dylan greet people. She poured several drinks as they ordered, so Dylan could just grab them and deliver them immediately. She was surprised how well they worked together, considering she’d never waitressed before. She had managed a lot of parties, though, and the size of this crowd was far more comparable to that than a real restaurant.

Cam recognized several faces as they came in, including the gambling trio Rob had pointed out at the funeral. The lawyer had a young man trailing him who came over to get their drinks, and she thought he looked a little familiar but couldn’t place him. The only face that gave her pause was Melvin Entwhistle. She hadn’t expected to see him in this environment. He looked at her closely, but must have decided he only recognized her from a similar job, as his face didn’t change expression.

People continued to mill for a long while, renewing drinks and talking and laughing. Then, at a little before nine, a whale of a man with silver hair, black pants, and a pin-striped vest entered the room. He had a cigar, which would have been illegal had this not been a private residence. He lumbered to the far side of the main table and sat. The four men who were meant to play poker with him sat around him immediately as a hush fell over the room.

“Who’s that?” Cam asked, as Dylan poured a bourbon on the rocks.

“Harry Taggert. This is his house.”

Cam’s knees nearly buckled. He was rumored to be a mobster, though he managed to never get caught at anything. Cam thought the pictures the newspaper had of him must have been fifteen years old. He was significantly heavier and grayer now, though she supposed the expression was familiar. She was pondering what a strange world this was that a known mobster would be a gardening buff when she heard her name.

“Cam?”

Cam was startled out of her observation and turned to see Elle standing at the bar.

“Elle! How nice to see you.”

“What are you doing here?” Her voice held suspicion, but it was quiet.

“I’ll bring a drink right over to you, what would you like?”

“Chardonnay, if you’ve got a good one.”

She went and stood off from the crowd. Annie complained Elle was a bimbo, but she’d clearly gotten Cam’s hint that she would answer her question if they could have just a little privacy. She opened a new bottle of chardonnay and poured a glass, taking it to Elle.

“Here you are,” Cam said in a normal voice, and then she lowered it to a whisper. “I’m trying to help figure out who killed your brother and why. My boyfriend is a reporter, but I was the one who had a way in here.”

“Oh?”

“I’m friends with the bartender. He said I could help.”

Elle turned to stare at Dylan. “Interesting. Well, I’m all for your quest, so I certainly won’t say anything. I may not be the only familiar face here tonight, though. They’re donating half the winnings to a charity Mikey chose. Homeless kids. He wanted to build them a rec room—give them something to do off the street.”

“That was nice of him,” Cam said.

“It was. I’m in the game second round.”

“Well good luck!”

At that, a circle of women called Cam over and she took drink orders, though she had to ask Dylan to make them, as she had never made a dirty martini—in fact she wasn’t sure what one was.

“It’s just extra olive-y,” he explained as he made it.

Cam frowned as she watched. This had less appeal to her than, say, an appletini—something she had actually bothered to try. She had to stick to her “can’t handle the alcohol” policy too often to try many things like that. Mostly she just drank wine.

She delivered the drinks and spotted something that hadn’t even occurred to her, though it should have when she learned the proceeds were going to Mike’s charity. Vera Windermere-Sullivan had just entered. Fortunately, she was shoving her fur coat at someone and so not looking in Cam’s direction.

Cam put the last drink down and scrambled back behind the bar.

“Shoot,” she whispered.

“What?”

“She knows who I am. Rob and I met her earlier today.”

“Who is she?” Dylan asked.

“She hasn’t been here before?”

“Why would she be?”

“She’s Sully’s wife.”

Dylan understood the ramifications immediately and bolted over to Vera to see what she wanted to drink and make sure she never had to look to the bar. Cam tried to think of a way she could change her appearance, but her shoulder-length hair was only so flexible, and Cam had had it down both when they were in the sauna and back when they’d swum together.

She looked to the other side of the room, hoping she could keep it happy and Dylan could run the side Vera was on, along with the table that was the center of attention.

She saw Melvin Entwhistle called over to consult with a man at the table, the one Rob had said at the funeral was Big Al, though he looked fairly svelte next to Harry Taggert. Melvin nodded a lot and then patted his breast pocket. Cam wondered what planet they were on that this was somehow considered investing, but it wasn’t really her business. She realized that another familiar face was also on the other side of the room—Heather Saunders, Derrick Windermere’s girlfriend. She was leering at Vera. Cam hoped Heather’s evil eye would keep Vera from looking toward her, and she hustled back to fill the drink orders she had just taken.

“You realize this place is a time bomb,” she whispered to Dylan.

“I’m getting that sense, yes.” He was grinning. She didn’t have time to ask what was so amusing, though. She thought they would both draw far less attention if they were completely efficient, so she hurried to keep up with the increased flow of alcohol.

Her plan worked, right until the change in table participants. Harry Taggart stood and went through the door to the greenhouse, breathing in what Cam knew would be warm, humid air. She wondered why a man who liked that so much would also enjoy cigars. The two were opposite. The other players and observers took Harry’s hint and all got up to mingle. Suddenly everyone’s attention focused on a broader scope, and Vera spotted Cam. She started to make her way over to question Cam, but was intercepted. Time slowed to a crawl.

Heather grabbed Vera’s shoulder and spun her. “What are you doing here?” Her volume was low, but the tone of it carried.

Cam made her way over to Elle, who was casually seating herself at the poker table.

“Do you know what this is about?”

“Money. Vera is inheriting it, and Heather thinks it should be her. Probably she’s right. They lived together nine years, but Derrick treated her like a dog. Until Mikey died, though, I wanted Vera to have it because then Mikey would be set.”

“Have they always fought like this?”

“Not outwardly. They usually avoid each other. But Vera grumbled a lot. I’d bet Heather grumbled more, but she avoided me, too—knew I was Vera’s family.”

At that point, though, Vera slapped Heather, and chaos ensued as several people tried to pull the women apart. Elle stood and gave a whistle that shocked Cam.

“Heather, I know you’re upset about your loss. We’re sad for you, sweetheart. But tonight is about Mikey, so if you can’t leave his poor widow in peace, you probably shouldn’t be here.” She sat down and took a sip of her drink. The majority of the other people in the room silently went back to what they were doing, but Cam saw two large men take Heather by the arms and escort her out.

Vera finally made her way to Cam.

“Are you following me?”

“No! I had no idea you’d be here! I didn’t know this game was raising money for Mr. Sullivan until I got here. I’m just moonlighting. I swear.”

“And how do you know my sister-in-law?”

“We talked about Senator Schulz earlier. Remember?”

Vera frowned and seemed to remember. “You’re sure this has nothing to do with me?”

“What would it? I only just met you today.”

“Could I get a dirty martini?” she asked.

Cam nodded and rushed off. She thought she’d figured it out, so she just made the drink and rushed back with it. The woman needed to relax, and Cam thought she might benefit if Vera’s inhibitions were toned down.